If I never knew you
by JennyWren
Summary: Sequel to A wish your heart makes. Meg is seeing other men. Christine and Raoul want to marry... EM, CR
1. Want something new?

**If I never knew you**

**Author´s note:** Here´s the sequel to "A wish your heart makes". It starts a few weeks after the last story ended. I hope you´ll enjoy it. Let me know!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters from "The Phantom of the Opera". They belong to Gaston Leroux / Andrew Lloyd Webber. The title of the story as well as all chapter titles come from Disney songs, which I of course don´t own.

**Want something new?**

"You´re so beautiful.", he whispered. By now he was so close that Meg could feel his hot breath tickling the sensitive skin of her ear. How she enjoyed being kissed there! For a moment she lost herself in a daydream. _Erik smiled down at her kindly. He took her into his stoing arms and held her tightly to him while they were dancing a waltz on the stage of the opera. The air was filled with music, a soft dreamy melody. Meg wore an elegant dress in a dark sensual red, and her hair was decorated with flowers that had exactly the same colour. Her partner looked very handsome in his black suit. He leaned down to her and-_

A sudden sound made the girl return to reality at once. As quickly as she could without being impolite she pulled herself out of the man´s embrace. Inwardly she pulled a face. He had nearly _kissed_ her. She threw her mother a grateful glance. By clearing her throat at precisely the right second she had saved her daughter from the terrible fate of being touched by the lips of M. Pierre Devoiraux. Last time Mme.Giry had been a little too slow, which meant that Meg had had to endure one of his wet, sloppy kisses. The heel of her left shoe had landed on his foot when he had tried to shove his tongue deeper into her mouth.

"I think we should better go inside now. It is very late, and you need your sleep.", Mme.Giry said with a friendly smile, seemingly completely unaware that she had interrupted something. "You´re right.", Meg agreed a bit too hastily, but Pierre was busy sulking about the lost possibility to demonstrate his famous kissing technique, so he didn´t notice it.

The young man stretched out his arms invitingly, yet Meg only snatched her handbag, which he had been carrying, called "Good night, M.Devoiraux! We´ll see each other at the opera." and had closed the door behind her mother and her before he even had the chance to reply. Pierre shook his head slightly and made his way back to the coach that was waiting for him in the street in front of Mme.Giry´s house. This girl remained a mystery to him. Maybe that was why he was so fascinated by her.

Inside Meg leaned against the door, sighing in relief. "Thank you, maman.", she breathed. "That was brilliant. ´You need your sleep.´- it was almost better than last week´s ´You have a rehearsal at eight o´clock tomorrow´!" Her mother nodded. "Yes, but do I have to remind you that we really had to call a rehearsal because this man insisted on watching? The other girls weren´t exactly pleased.", she said.

Her daughter gave a small giggle, then became serious. Sinking down onto the stairs leading to the first floor she asked: "Why do we have to do all this, maman? Why this farce?". She looked so tiny in these moments that the ballet teacher felt like wrapping her arms around her and rocking her back and forth. But she was beyond the stage in which problems could be solved like this.

"Erik doesn´t want other people to know about your relationship.", she explained in a soft voice, sitting down next to Meg, who had buried her face in her hands. Stroking her hair tenderly the older woman went on: "He wants you to have a normal life. The other chorus girls are not as tolerant as Christine. They´d treat you like a freak, asking insolent questions and laughing behind your back. And can you imagine what MM.André and Firmin would say? They can´t even cope with my connection to the Opera Ghost…"

"All right, all right!", Meg exclaimed, looking up. She was tried of hearing this over and over. "But why do I have to meet other men?" Every time she went out with one of her admirers she had to force herself. It became increasingly difficult to smile politely about their feeble jokes. She could hardly stand their lecherous gazes at her chest. Feeling their arms around her shoulders made her sick. "That´s what normal girls do at your age.", her mother told her. "They are looking for a husband. It would be suspicious if you were the only one not to do that. Besides, you couldn´t possibly reject M.Devoiraux. He´s one of the patrons of the opera."

Suddenly the girl jumped up and started pacing the corridor. "If you think that makes him a decent man, you´re mistaken.", she hissed. "All the time in the restaurant he was touching my knee. If his dirty fingers had wandered one inch higher, my fork had ´accidentally´ slipped and stabbed a very sensitive part of the male body! I have no idea how much longer he´ll believe the excuse that I´m not allowed to go out without you as chaperone. The last time we met at the opera he cornered me and talked for at least half an hour about how we had known each other long enough for our relationship to move into a new direction – doubtlessly the direction leading to his bedroom!"

"I know, but please try not to get this upset!", Mme.Giry said in an attempt to make her calm down. Meg´s last sentences had almost been shouts. The girl stopped dead, all energy vanished as abruptly as it had come. "I feel as if I was betraying Erik with every look and every touch.", she admitted in a small voice. "He´s the one I should be with. Yet instead I spend my time with arrogant and boring men who think they are irresistible, just because they have a lot of money."

The older woman watched her daughter, whose eyes were shining with tears. "Go and talk to Erik.", she advised her. "Perhaps you´ll find a solution together." Honestly Meg doubted it, but the prospect of seeing her beloved made her feel better. "We wanted to meet anyway. I bet Erik waits impatiently for my adventures with M. le Patron. I´ll just go to my room to change." "That is necessary, I daresay.", her mother told her with a chuckle. Meg´s clothes for this evening had been her dullest and longest grey skirt and a plain white blouse. They weren´t exactly alluring, but this had been her reason for wearing them. Looking at certain parts of her body was reserved for Erik.


	2. Wait and see

**2) Wait and see**

Meg was late. She had promised to come to him at eleven o´clock, and now it was already seventeen minutes past that time. A normal person wouldn´t have pondered too much about it. Dinner could have taken longer than expected, the coach could have been held up or there could have still been people in the opera and the girl´d have to wait till they were gone to use the secret passageway. But all these sensible explanations didn´t occur to Erik. After all, he wasn´t a normal person – he was a man in love.

Everything was prepared for her arrival. The bottle of red wine was uncorked and stood next to two glasses and a jug filled with water. Meg´s very slim dancer´s body had slight problems in coping with alcohol, so she needed to mix it. Three weeks ago she had had two glasses of wine with their dinner. The evening had ended sooner than expected when she had fallen asleep on the sofa in the living room half an hour later.

Erik smiled reminiscently while his fingers played with the corkscrew. He would have never taken advantage of her state by doing things she didn´t want. Come to think of it, he hadn´t even done things she wanted him to. She had clung to his chest and asked him to undress her, and he had only made her lie down and wrapped a blanket around her, watching her till she had slumbered peacefully. He loved her far too much to risk losing her feelings.

´Oh, and by putting her through all this you don´t risk losing her feelings at all.´, a little voice in his head remarked sarcastically. ´Which decent man would force his beloved to meet other men?´ Erik didn´t need this voice to tell him how strange his idea was. He had heard more than enough objections from Meg and Mme.Giry. Yet they could talk as much as they wanted – he wouldn´t waver in his decision.

He would never forget Meg´s face when he had told her that they would keep their relationship secret. ´You want me to hide my feelings?´, she had asked in a small voice, her cheek pale. ´Would you prefer to display them in public? People would start throwing you sideway glances. They wouldn´t treat you like a normal human being anymore. And every time you get a part in an opera the ballet rats would think it wasn´t because of your talent, but because of me. Would you like that?´ This had finally make her give in.

So the girl had continued her ´normal life´, a life in which the man she loved played a smaller role than her daily ballet practice or the rehearsals. She could only sneak away every now and then, so that they had the chance to exchange some hasty kisses and terms of affection before she had to return. Of course they also met at night. But it wasn´t possible too often since Mme.Giry was worried about the young girl´s sleep. Admittedly sleeping was something they did very little when she spent the night at his home.

Sighing Erik poured himself a glass of wine and took a gulp, in vain trying to drown his disappointment. What was the point in waiting any longer? Who knew whether Meg would come at all? Maybe she liked the new patron of the opera by now and preferred his company. The thought that one day she could find among the spoilt sons of rich businessmen his replacement was his greatest fear. It was paradoxical. After all, it was he who kept encouraging her about going out, about doing things she couldn´t experience with him.

He lifted the glass to his lips again, but stopped in mid-movement. He had heard something. His sensitive ear didn´t fail him: A second later the door was pushed open, and Meg appeared, panting slightly. Apparently she had run the whole way down to him. "I´m sorry, Erik. I just couldn´t get rid of M.Devoiraux today. He talked and talked and ordered one brandy after the other. What a terrible evening!", she exclaimed, trying to catch her breath.

Erik´s glass fell from his hand, and the content poured onto the carpet as he jumped up from his seat, but he didn´t care. He rushed to her and took her into his arms. "In this second the terrible part of the evening is over. From now on it´ll become better.", he assured her. "I´ve missed you so much, my little princess. When did we last see each other?" They played this little game every time, just to show that they had thought about each other constantly. "Forty-seven hours ago.", she replied at once. "Forty-seven and a half.", he corrected her softly.

"How much longer will it have to go on like this?", Meg asked, looking up at him. "This is madness, Erik." "I know, I know.", he muttered, burying his face in her hair. The scent was more intoxicating than every wine he had tasted so far. It was making him light-headed, and he felt the urge to simply kiss away her sorrows and his own. He leaned down and brought his lips to hers. Meg reacted instantly. ´We´ll be able to talk later.´, she thought, just like so many times before.


	3. This fire in my skin

**3) This fire in my skin**

She only visited him when the smiling became unbearable, the smiling and the nodding and the pretending that she was happy for her best friend. Patiently she endured endless re-tellings of what Erik had said and done, hoping that for once Meg would hold her tongue or at least spare her the details of their wonderful encounters. But Meg went on and on, oblivious to the fact that Christine´s lips were pressed tightly together and her fingernails dug into her palms, as if to keep her from screaming.

Sometimes the tension was simply too much, and Christine knew only one way of dealing with it: She went to Raoul. It was like a frenzy, a blur of emotions, right from the moment she entered his house. They rarely talked. It wasn´t necessary – she always came for the same reason. And every time the same things happened: the hasty fumbling at various pieces of clothing, the occasional sound of ripping fabric, the urge to feel skin against skin. It was passion in its purest form.

Today was one of the few days when they had actually made it to the bed. Now Raoul was lying there, his breathing still ragged, and tried to find out how he could have ended up in this situation. It had all begun at the evening when they had sat in the kitchen of Mme.Giry´s house while Meg and Erik had been upstairs, undoubtedly declaring their undying love and unknowingly sealing Christine´s and Raoul´s fate as well. He had kissed her, and it had comforted both of them. But only too soon she had noticed that there were other ways of comforting her, so she had allowed him to go on... and on and on till they had made love, right there on the cold floor.

Since then she had come to him more and more often. It were the best hours in Raoul´s life – and the worst. When his hands and lips caressed her, making her gasp and moan, he felt like a king. Everything was brilliant as long as she kept her eyes closed. When they were open he could see the pain and disappointment in them, and all his positive emotions vanished. He knew that no matter what he did and how loving and caring he was, it would never be enough. It would never be his name she shouted. He was not Erik.

This night she had fallen asleep afterwards, giving Raoul some precious moments to study her beauty. Not for the first time he asked himself how someone could be this perfect. Her features were flawless, the cheeks flushed and the lips still slightly swollen from his kisses. Softly he traced the outline of her mouth with his index finger. She stirred, but didn´t wake up. If possible he loved her even more like this. Now she couldn´t hurt him or go away.

He knew she´d wake up soon. She never stayed till the next morning, allowing him such simple pleasures as lying in bed for hours at a time, listening to their hearts beating in unison with each other, or eating breakfast with her. She sneaked into the house like a thief and she left if like one, quickly and without any unnecessary sound. Lovingly he brushed a dark curl out of her face. If there was anything Christine had stolen, it was his heart… though Raoul had more than once suspected it really was his common sense.

Quite suddenly her eyes snapped open. He leaned closer, unwilling to miss the first moment, the moment before she realised where she was and who she was with. The look she gave him was so full of love that Raoul couldn´t help sighing a little. Then comprehension dawned on her, and her eyes lost their sparkle. "Raoul?", she muttered. He nodded. "As always.", he replied gently. "Although you´d rather see someone else…"

Instead of saying something the girl crawled out of bed as fast as it was possible when still being sleepy. She picked up her clothes from the floor and started dressing. Knowing the procedure Raoul had turned his head away from her. Her feelings of lust and passion were always followed by shame. All of a sudden she couldn´t bear being seen naked by him. It was one of the countless things he simply accepted, afraid of losing her.

By the time he looked in her direction again she was buttoning her dress. He was overcome by panic. In a few minutes she would be gone, and he hadn´t said it yet. But he had to. This time he had sworn to himself that he´d do it. He cleared his throat. "Christine, we… we have to talk.", he began slowly. "Talk?", she repeated suspiciously, shaking her head about the insolence of this request. With a few determined movements she finished dressing and practically fled from the room. She had already opened the door when Raoul, having summoned up all his courage, called after her, in a voice full of despair: "Will you marry me?".


	4. I dare to dream that she might even

**4) I dare to dream that she might even care for me**

Christine froze. She had heard his words, but they didn´t make sense. Marry him? Why did he ask such a question? He had to know how she´d respond. Slowly she turned around to face him. She saw that he indeed seemed to anticipate the answer she was about to give him. His beautiful eyes were wide, which made his face even more boyish than usual. In his arms he held the pillow her head had rested on minutes before, and he pressed it against his chest, as if to shield himself from the cruelties life had in store for him.

Little she knew that the pillow still contained small fractions of her warmth. Raoul wanted to absorb them. Of course he would have preferred cradling the real Christine, but this was the last thing she´d let him do now. He needed comfort for he had the impression that everything was going terribly wrong. This should have been a happy moment. He should have held Christine in his arms instead of her pillow. She should have beamed at him instead of looking at him as if she had seen a ghost.

As much as the girl felt like running out of the room, slamming the door shut and locking it, just to get away from his questioning glance, she found herself unable to do it. Raoul was not only her lover, but also her best friend, the only person who knew about her feelings for Erik. She couldn´t afford to lose her confidant, and she didn´t want to either. So she didn´t leave, but walked back to the bed and sat down next to him.

"You can be certain that I´m very flattered, Raoul, but… what made you think I could really accept your proposal?", she asked calmly. "I never tried to lead you to believe that our relationship could become more than… well, than this." She gestured at the bed. "That´s true.", he said, seizing her hand, suddenly shy, despite all that had happened between them. She didn´t pull it away. Nobody knew better than her that physical contact was simply needed at times.

"But there are several facts that could help to persuade you.", he went on eagerly. "You´ve been seen enter and leave my house many times. There are already rumours about you and me, and Philippe said I should either make our relationship legal or make it stop." He would never tell her the exact words his brother had used. They had burned themselves into his memory. _Having a mistress is not reprehensible, and I can understand you´re attracted to the loose morals of the people at the opera. They´re quite useful for… certain things, if you know what I mean. But make sure your plaything comes through the servants´ entrance. That´s the way it should be._ Raoul had felt like hitting him and shouting at him how he dared offend the only woman his younger brother had ever loved. Yet he had just scowled at him, and his hands had clenched into fists in his pockets.There could be no bigger coward than him.

Though Philippe´s remarks had been the most horrible, Raoul had had to endure lots of them for the last weeks. This was another reason for his wish to marry her. He wanted to step out into the world and tell everyone: ´This is Christine, Vicomtess de Chagny. I love her, and she has every right to be at my side.´. There were so many things he could give her, if only she allowed him to.

Make it stop? The girl´s mind was racing. She needed the hours with Raoul. They were her compensation for the time she spent with Meg. Christine was aware that she´d need them even more in the future. Tomorrow evening she´d have a singing lesson with Erik. It would be the first one since the time he had told her about Meg and him. Unable to watch yet another happy face she had excused herself, saying that she had overexerted her voice and needed a break. But the new opera would start in just a few weeks, and Christine had been given the female leading role. So she had to take lessons, and Erik doubtlessly was the best teacher.

Sensing that something was worrying his beloved Raoul squeezed her hand softly. She looked up at him and gave him a grateful smile. One thing was certain: Without Raoul her life would be very empty. But marrying him? "Can I have a little time to consider your question?", she wanted to know in a small voice. He nodded hastily. She hadn´t rejected him… yet.

"I´ll have my first singing lesson tomorrow at 9 p.m..", she informed him, gently pulling her hand out of his and standing up. "Then I guess you´ll be here at eleven.", he stated quietly. After being with her teacher for more than an hour she´d need comfort more than ever. "I don´t know for sure if I´ll come to you.", she muttered. Raoul smiled at her, a sad and bitter smile that made her heart heavy with guilt. "Of course you will." Both of them knew it was true.


	5. Look out! Look out!

**Author´s note:** Thank you for all the nice reviews! You can be sure that I appreciate them. So... here´s the new chapter. It´s a little longer than the last ones. Let me know if you like it!

**5) Look out! Look out!**

The next day started with a surprise. "Some of you may know that Nicole decided to leave us and join the corps de ballet at a different opera due to a certain event that took place a few weeks ago.", Mme.Giry told the ballet girls at the beginning of their lesson. A few of them looked concerned, but the majority was smiling, some even grinning openly. Nicole´s arrogance hadn´t exactly made her popular, and the image of her falling through the trapdoor was still vivid in their minds. Though it had been dangerous, it had looked very funny. Besides, most of them held her responsible for Meg´s failure at the performance after she had been given Nicole´s role.

Meg´s attention was drawn to the girl standing next to the ballet teacher. She was small and slim, but noticeably muscles on her legs told the experienced eyes about long hours of practice. Meg´s gaze wandered upwards, and she saw shiny auburn hair tied into a bun on top of her head and pretty blue-green eyes. She gave the new girl an tentative smile, and she returned it.

"That´s why I had to find a replacement for her quickly.", Mme.Giry went on. Indicating the girls she said: "This is Ariane Hérder. She used to dance at the opera in Marseille, where my sister works. She´s quite fond of her and her talent.". The teacher nodded at her, and Ariane seemed to relax slightly. Her fingers were no longer moving nervously. Now she held her arms gracefully. She almost looked as if she already stood in the first position. Seeing this behaviour Meg grew a little wary. She could sense competition.

By the end of the lesson she knew she had been right. Ariane was an excellent dancer. Her technique was impeccable. Still her movements were elegant and beautiful. Ariane seemed to be better than all of them. ´But is she also… better than me?´, Meg asked herself. The thought made her feel dizzy. She had always been the best dancer of the group. Of course there had been lessons in which other girls had received these brief smiles and nods that were Mme.Giry´s highest form of praise. But Meg had only regarded this as an incentive for working harder on herself. But what could she do against perfection?

"Are you all right?" A hand touched her shoulder gently. For a second Meg was startled. She looked around and realised that she had been so lost in thought that she hadn´t noticed the others had already left the stage. Even her mother was gone. Only one girl was still there. "Are you all right?", Ariane repeated. "You look a little pale." "I´m fine.", Meg answered shortly and starter walking away without another word. She really didn´t feel like talking at the moment, at least not to her.

Unfortunately the new girl couldn´t be shaken off that quickly. She kept pace with Meg effortlessly. "You are Meg, Mme.Giry´s daughter, aren´t you?", she asked. Meg nodded glumly. "I knew it right away. Such elegance, such beauty – it could only be you. Your aunt speak very highly of you. According to her you´re the best dancer in Paris." Her words, spoken so seriously, made Meg´s cheeks flush with embarrassment. Aunt Beatrice was a very warm and open person, and, unlike her sister, she had the tendency to praise rather than criticise. She loved her niece dearly, so it was logical that she had said something nice about her.

"Well… you are very good as well.", Meg muttered the first reply that came to her mind. "The way you danced the adagio was great." "Thank you.", Ariane said, beaming at her. "I work very much on my posture, you know. Every morning I do thirty minutes of-" "I´m sorry that I have to interrupt you, but that´s my dressing room. See you later!", Meg told her, glad that they had reached it before she had had to hear Ariane´s entire training programme. "It was very interesting to talk to you.", Ariane said while the other girl opened the door to her room and slipped inside.

Meg closed the door and leaned against it, as if she was afraid Ariane might come after her. She gave a frustrated sigh. Wasn´t it enough that the new girl was a good dancer? Why did she have to be friendly as well? Admittedly she had talked a little too much, but Meg could understand it. She wanted to make friends. Still pondering she sat down on the sofa and placed her aching feet on the table in a very un-ladylike way. If only Christine had been with her! But with the big role she got she was no longer obliged to attend all ballet lessons, and this one had taken place without her. At least they´d meet later. Meg needed her best friend.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Erik had watched the entire lesson from Box Five. He did this quite frequently, just to look at his Meg, to see her glide over the stage like a fairy. But this time something had distracted her, making her steps less self-confident, even in easy passages. Soon he had found the source of her distress: a new chorus girl. Although ballet wasn´t Erik´s special field, he couldn´t help noticing she had a lot of talent.

Judging by the glances she threw her, Mme.Giry shared his opinion. But she couldn´t seriously prefer her to her daughter, could she? Even now, as he made his way to Meg´s dressing room, he knew no reply to this question. All he knew was that if the teacher started treating Meg any differently, he´d have to do something about it. He loved his blond princess, and nobody was to hurt her. Nobody.


	6. Free to do it all my way

**6) Free to do it all my way**

When Erik arrived at Meg´s dressing room he knocked a few times. The door was opened slightly, and the girl looked out. Her eyes widened in surprise as she saw who was there. "Erik!", she said in a breathless whisper. "What are you- Oh, never mind! Just come in quickly, before someone sees you!" She took him by the hand and pulled him into the room, pushing the door shut with her foot.

Even to a casual observer it would have been obvious that these two people had learned to enjoy every moment together as much as possible. Without exchanging a single word their lips met in a searing kiss. But as his hands started caressing her breasts through the fabric of her ballet dress Meg broke the kiss. "I´m sorry, Erik, but we don´t have that much time. In five minutes maman wants to show us the new steps for act three.", she explained, shrugging apologetically.

"She´ll practice the steps with you on stage, won´t she?", he asked, a certain twinkle in his eyes. "Yes, of course.", Meg replied. "Where else-" A piercing scream echoing through the corridor interrupted her. Moments later hurried footsteps could be heard and also more shouts. "Oh my God, look at all this blood!" "-hanging right over there!" "Rats all over -!" The chorus girls´ high-pitched squeals mixed with the deeper and slightly calmer voices of stagehands.

Meg wanted to run to the source of commotion and see what was going on, but couldn´t move. Her body was paralysed with fear. Fear and a terrible suspicion. She stared at Erik. Suddenly she was feeling very cold; she even shivered. It couldn´t be. He wouldn´t … or would he? "Was that you?", she wanted to know, her voice sounding hollow. He merely nodded. How could he look so pleased with himself? "And… and who…?" The girl felt as if she would suffocate with her own words. "Oh, one of the stagehands.", he answered casually. "The other day he had the audacity to talk to his despicable friends about the size of your bosom! I couldn´t leave such insolence unpunished."

"What?", she muttered faintly. "You… killed a man because he had talked about my…?" It was only when he looked into her terribly pale face that Erik realised that she actually believed his story. "Oh Meg, I´m sorry. That was supposed to be a little joke.", he said hastily, wrapping his arms around her. "Can you forgive an old fool with the sense of humour typical for someone who has lived alone far too long?" "Yes.", Meg replied, sighing in relief. Slowly her heartbeat returned to its normal speed. She should have known better. He would never do that.

"But what´s happening on stage then? They spoke about blood…" She was a bit confused now. He smiled down at her kindly and began to explain his plan proudly. "Raw meat. A kitchen maid in a restaurant nearby received a little money for putting several pounds of it on stage minutes after the lesson had ended. The smell attracted rats, which are probably just having the feast of their lives. It´ll take at least an hour till the rat catcher has brought them away and the stage is clean again. So we have plenty of time for us." He shook his head indignantly. Why did even his darling Meg suspect he had committed murder, when in truth he had done nothing but giving the rats living under the opera better food than they had ever received?

Meg leaned closer, resting her head against his shoulder. "And all this effort just for me?", she whispered. "If I had to set white elephants free on stage to spend more time with you, I´d buy them at once.", he said almost seriously. "Come to think of it, what about a couple of white mice in the new girl´s dressing room? You didn´t seem to like her too much." She didn´t have to ask how he could know that. His habit of watching rehearsals was nothing new to her.

Sighing slightly she pulled herself out of his embrace and settled down on the sofa. She sensed that this wouldn´t be an easy conversation. Suddenly she wished they could have prolonged their talk about raw meat. Without protesting against the abrupt end of their physical contact Erik sat down next to her. For a few moments neither of them said something. Then Meg started speaking in a flat voice. "She´s so… perfect. I´ll never be like that, not even if I practice a hundred years. Why should I bother trying at all? And the way maman looked at her… I bet the managers will like her as well, and M.Reyer and… and everybody! And what about me?"

Erik had listened to her outburst without making an attempt to stop her. Now he patted her hand sympathetically. "I´ll talk to them.", he offered. "I´ll talk to the managers, to M.Reyer and to your mother and I´ll tell them that they better treat you decently, or else…" "But no!", she said. "I want them to respect me because of my dancing and not because my lover could kill them." She didn´t notice that she was using the exact argument he had used weeks ago when they had discussed their relationship.

Erik did notice, but didn´t comment on it. His mind was still busy with the term ´lover´. Meg didn´t often call him that. Somehow he liked the sound of it. Focusing on her problem again he said: "Then show them! Show them you´re the best dancer! And even in the unlikely case that this girl is indeed better than you… you´ll always be the loveliest girl in the world for me.". "Very helpful, Erik.", Meg muttered, punching his arm playfully. But she was smiling. She should be happy about the time she could spend with him. Who knew how long- Someone knocked at the door.


	7. Really too much for me

**7) Really too much for me**

Meg and Erik stared at each other in shock, unable to do anything. They were caught. Meg hadn´t even locked the door. Any second the other chorus girls could come in to tell her about the incident on stage, and within minutes the raw meat would be forgotten because everyone would be busy gossiping about the dancer and the Opera Ghost.

The girl was the first to recover enough to act. "They musn´t see you here.", she hissed. "And where shall I go?", he wanted to know. Even he couldn´t simply vanish from a room with only one entrance. If they had been in Christine´s dressing room, things would have been easier. But contrary to popular belief he didn´t have a secret passageway from every room.

"You have to hide somewhere.", Meg whispered. Both looked around frantically for a moment. Then their eyes met and they shrugged and shook their head simultaneously. The room was rather small and not very well furnished. How could a grown-up man hide here? The girl´s gaze fell on the large wardrobe. "In there!", she muttered, pulling him to his feet. "You want me to climb into the _wardrobe_?", he asked incredulously, struggling to break free from her grip. Did she seriously expect him to do something that undignified? He was the Phantom of the Opera, after all!

The person on the other side of the door knocked again. Meg and Erik stopped moving immediately, realising in the same second that they had probably not been as quiet as they had thought. "Meg? Meg, are you there?" Recognising the voice they could hardly keep themselves from bursting into laughter. If only they had known earlier who was at the door! Meg let go of Erik´s wrists, noticing with embarrassment the red marks her fingers had left on his skin. "You can come in, Christine."

Christine complied, wondering what had taken her friend so long. Maybe she had used the time between the rehearsals for a short rest and hadn´t been dressed properly. But entering the room she saw that it was much worse: Erik was with Meg. Erik… She hadn´t had any form of contact to him for weeks. Yet if she had secretly hoped her feelings for him could have diminished, she had been terribly wrong. His mere sight made her heart leap.

Perhaps she could just deliver the message quickly and leave again without exchanging a personal word. She didn´t even close the door, determined to get out as soon as possible. "You don´t have to worry – the others have already gone. No one will come here and see you.", she assured them hastily, not looking at either of them. "Good day, Christine.", Erik said, smiling. How could she have survived for such a long time without hearing this wonderful voice? Only he had the ability to caress her very soul just by saying her name.

Christine took a deep breath to make her voice steady for what she had to say. Desperately trying to ignore Erik´s masculine scent she muttered: "Your mother asked me to inform you that the rehearsal will take place two hours later than scheduled because the stage has to be cleaned first.". She left out the reason for this measure, guessing that the man responsible for the mess stood next to her friend and had already told her about it.

The two people beamed at each other. "Two hours just for us – Erik, you´re a genius.", Meg whispered. He couldn´t help being proud of himself. The plan had worked even better than he had imagined. They probably needed that much time because the rat catcher was untraceable. Not willing to waste one second of their precious time he caught her lips in a passionate kiss. The girl was a little hesitant at first, but responded after a few moments. ´This is only Christine, my best friend.´, she reminded herself. ´She´ll surely go away in order not to disturb us.´ Not long after this thought both of them had forgotten she was even there.

The sight of them kissing was the final straw. Christine watched in horror for what seemed like an eternity, unable to turn away. She was certain that the dreadful picture would be on her mind forever: mouths trying to devour each other, lips gliding over lips, fingers tangled in hair… When one of Meg´s hands sneaked under Erik´s shirt the feeling of sickness in Christine´s stomach grew too strong. "I… you… I´m sorry…", she stuttered and left the room in a run. She made it to the nearest bathroom just in time before the contents of her stomach spilled from her mouth and into a toilet.

As Meg found her minutes later she was still cowering over the toilet bowl, her body shaking with cramps or sobs or maybe both, Meg couldn´t tell. "Christine?", she said softly. "Is there anything I can do for you?" She could at least keep her friend´s hair out of the way or hold her hand and tell her that it would be over soon, like they had done dozens of times when one of them had been ill. Surely Christine had seen too much of the raw meat and the rats feasting on it, and it had made her sick.

"Go…", Christine muttered, her voice shaking as violently as her body. "What?" Meg was certain she hadn´t understood her correctly. They had always been there for each other, and now her friend told her to leave? "GO!", Christine yelled. She couldn´t bear hearing her voice, trying to comfort her. "All right, all right.", Meg said quickly and went out of the bathroom. But she didn´t go back to Erik immediately. Instead she made her way to her mother´s room. Christine needed someone. Even if this someone apparently was not her best friend.


	8. And for once it would be grand

**8) And for once is would be grand…**

When Meg was gone Christine tried to stand up. As she was still trembling she needed several attempts. Having finally persuaded her legs to support her weight she went to the washbasin. She drank a few handfuls of water and washed out her mouth till after a while the disgusting taste decreased slightly. Then she looked up into the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her. Mercilessly she took in each and every flaw. Her eyes were blood-shot and her whole face was pale and covered in cold sweat.

She was about to search for a handkerchief in her pockets as one was handed to her. Christine had been so busy with herself that she hadn´t even noticed Mme.Giry appearing next to her. The girl took the snow white handkerchief and wiped her face and mouth with it. Muttering a "Thank you!" she gave it back to her. "Did Meg send you?", she asked, although she knew the answer had to be positive. No one else had the slightest idea she was here.

The ballet teacher nodded. "She saw that you were sick and was worried about you. And since you made her leave she came to me, asking me to go to you so that you would´t be alone.", she explained. "So you´re only here because someone has to do it and you regard it as your duty? I´m flattered." Christine´s voice was full of sarcasm. "You know that I care for you as if you were my daughter.", Mme.Giry said calmly, brushing over the girl´s dark hair.

Christine could hardly keep herself from telling her: ´I wish I really was your daughter.´. If she had been Meg, she´d have had Erik. There had to be something that made her so appealing, maybe her beautiful curls or her charming smile. It could also be the way she walked or her pretty dresses…

She only heard Mme.Giry´s question as she cleared her throat and repeated it: "What is the reason for your sickness, Christine? Meg suspected it could have been the incident on stage, but you weren´t present for as long as a minute. Besides, you´ve been acting strangely for weeks. You´re distracted during rehearsals. When the roles for the upcoming opera were announced you didn´t show any signs of cheerfulness. When has been the last time I´ve seen you laugh or merely smile? What is wrong with you?".

Christine´s fingers clenched tightly around the edge of the washbasin. How she longed to tell someone! But she couldn´t. No one was to know about it, especially not the woman she was facing at the moment. She was Meg´s mother, after all. She didn´t dare imagine what would happen if Meg heard about it. Their friendship would be over, that much was certain, and for some reason she didn´t know herself this friendship was still very important to her.

The ballet teacher waited some minutes for a reply. When Christine remained silent she said with a small sigh: "You don´t have to talk to me. Do you want me to get someone else… Erik, maybe?". To her it sounded like a good idea. Erik was almost like a father to the girl. Perhaps her problem was very private, and she´d feel more comfortable discussing it with him.

She had almost turned around when the girl caught her sleeve and held on to it as if her life depended on it. "No… no, madame… not Erik… not him, please… I can´t…", she stammered, her eyes shining with tears. "It´s all right. I won´t go to him.", Mme.Giry assured the girl, trying in vain to free her sleeve. With her other hand she pulled out a fresh handkerchief and dabbed at Christine´s eyes.

"So I assume Erik is involved in the matter that worries you so much.", she stated, and the girl nodded. This made Mme.Giry think. Meg had told her how abruptly her friend has stopped her singing lessons. And even though she never brought up the topic, the ballet teacher had not forgotten what Erik had nearly done to her daughter. Now all she had to do was put two and two together. "Has he ever… touched you in an inappropriate way or done… other things you didn´t want?", she approached the subject cautiously.

Christine stared at her, her eyes wide. She looked almost frightening. "But no!", she whispered, involuntarily letting go of the older woman´s sleeve. "Erik would never do such a thing again. He has learned his lesson, really. Besides…" Her voice changed completely. Had it defended her teacher passionately before, it sounded bitter now. "…why should he bother to touch me? Meg and he are so… happy." Mme.Giry couldn´t remember that she had ever heard the word ´happy´ spoken with such disgust.

The girl heard her own sentences echo through her head. ´They´re happy… happy… happy…´ Quite suddenly she felt dizzy again. Her fingers lost their grip on the washbasin. Only Mme.Giry´s presence of mind kept her from crashing to the floor. She collapsed right in her arms. Her eyes were closed, but she hadn´t passed out. The older woman could tell that by the tears running down her pale cheeks. "Christine, my dear…", she muttered in an unusually kind voice. She brought the girl´s head to her chest and rocked her back and forth slightly.

Neither of them knew how long they stood like this; it could have been minutes as well as hours. Finally Christine´s tears subsided and she opened her eyes. She straightened up and pulled herself out of the embrace. The other woman seized her chance to speak. "You´re in love with Erik, aren´t you?" "I love Erik.", Christine replied. It was strangely relieving to say it loud, as if for a second it was something normal. But of course it wasn´t.

Mme.Giry held back all the questions that appeared on her mind. Was she the only other person to know about this? Why was the girl still meeting Raoul when she wasn´t seriously interested in him? The only one she uttered was: "What are you going to do?". Christine shook her head. "I don´t know. I´ve been thinking about little else for weeks and still don´t know it."

"Do you want me to talk to Erik?", the ballet teacher offered. "No… yes… I don´t know… maybe…", the girl mumbled, still shaking her head. "I will talk to him.", Mme.Giry decided. "It cannot go on like this with you. I´ve heard of people dying of grief…" She took her hand and led her out of the bathroom through the empty corridors and straight to a coach waiting for passengers outside the opera. "There will be no more lessons for you today, Christine. You should go home and…" "No!", Christine exclaimed. The silence in her room would certainly drive her insane. Quickly she told the coachman: "To the de Chagny estate, please.". She climbed into the coach. "Thank you, madame.", she said. Mme.Giry gave her faint smile and went back inside.


	9. to have someone understand

**Author´s note:** Usually I don´t do chapter dedications. But this one is dedicated to HPROXMYSOX because you guessed the title so well and gave an interesting suggestion for interpretation of one of Mme. Giry´s sentences. Although of course Erik himself said he was dying of love, not of grief... I´m always interested in your thoughts. So let me know!

**9) ...to have someone understand**

"Hello Meg!" Meg forced herself to smile. But inwardly she groaned. Couldn´t she even go down a corridor without meeting someone? And why was this someone Ariane of all people? She had informed her mother about Christine, and now all she wanted was to be with Erik again.

"I´ve just heard about what happened on stage – how terrible!", Ariane exclaimed with a theatrical gesture. "There´s nothing terrible about a bit of meat.", Meg mumbled. She really had more important matters to think about at the moment. "Yes, but all the _rats_! Marie passed out when she saw them. They carried her past my room." "Very interesting…" Meg rolled her eyes.

Apparently Ariane was determined not to notice it, just like she ignored her impatiently tapping her foot to the floor. "The other girls told me that all this had been done by that man… the Opera Ghost." Erik would have been pleased to hear someone speak his name with so much awe. Meg tried to suppress an amused grin. But as Ariane continued Meg grew more and more serious. "They also said that he watches our every step from behind the mirrors. And when he finds a girl alone he comes to her and… and…"

"That´s not true!", Meg yelled so suddenly that Ariane jumped. "Er- he would never do that. At least that´s what I heard.", she added quickly. But the new girl was unstoppable. "And they told me that he has already killed someone.", she said in a hushed whisper, as if she was afraid he could come out of a corner and do it again. Meg couldn´t believe her ears. How had the other chorus girls managed to pour out so much gossip over poor Ariane in such a short time? "Why don´t we go to your room and I tell you a few things about the ghost?", she suggested. Of course she wouldn´t talk about him and her. She´d just tell her a few things to make her less frightened. She hated it when Erik was portrayed as a heartless monster. He would surely understand that she had to improve his reputation before returning to him.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Meanwhile Erik was, once again, waiting. He wasn´t a very patient person. Over the years he had developed his own methods of making people work at the speed he wanted them to. But now he couldn´t do anything. This was probably one of the reasons why the present situation was almost unbearable for him.

After a few minutes he peered out of the door cautiously. Maybe he could ses Meg coming back to him. They still had a lot of time, and he had a couple of ideas how to spend it very nicely. He shrank back behind the slightly open door as he heard voices. But it wasn´t his beloved, perhaps talking to her mother or one of the other girls. These voices were clearly male.

Erik barely suppressed a sigh. It were none other than his dear managers, who apparently stood a few doors away from his. Usually they weren´t even worth to be eavesdropped. But then, it couldn´t hurt to find out what they were talking about. They were probably just marvelling at the incident on stage and what he had wanted to achieve with it. Of course they would never understand it. They possessed only little imagination and had surely never been that madly in love.

He held his breath, listening closely to their laughter. _Laughter?_ Yes, they were actually laughing. "´A tame ghost´ - that´s a lovely way of putting it!", M.André said. "I also believe our phantom is getting old. Throwing meat on stage… I thought such childish tricks were below him. I guess in his next note he´ll announce that he´s going to retire and buy himself a nice little house in Nice." That remark made them laugh even harder. Erik started asking himself if the concept of the ´tame phantom´ had been born with the help of a good deal of alcohol.

"Maybe he has found himself a nice little mistress.", M.Firmin blurted out, giggling. "And now he doesn´t want to startle her by doing bad things." M.André´s next utterance supported Erik´s assumption. "Even if your sister has given birth to a healthy baby boy this morning… I think you´ve had too much wine. Next you´ll tell me it´s one of the ballet rats." Both of the managers were too busy laughing yet again to hear the small gasp behind the door.

"Actually that´s not a laughing matter." It was clear that M.André tried to pull himself together. "Some of the girls are a little… peculiar, but none of them would tangle with the Opera Ghost." "Why not? I´m sure ghosts also have certain needs." "I don´t want to think about that, Firmin.", the other man said strictly. "We should better go back to our office , now that we made sure the stage will be clean soon." "Do you have another bottle of this delicious sherry there?", M.Firmin wanted to know. "We´ll see." With these words the managers turned around a corner and were gone seconds later.

It was good that Erik wore gloves. They had protected his palms from the worst damage as his hands had clenched into fists more and more tightly during the dreadful conversation he had been forced to listen to. Yet he almost wished there was blood. He wanted to destroy something, even if it was his own skin. He hadn´t felt like this for a long time. As long as Meg brightened his days with her smile and soft caresses it was easier for him to control his fury.

But now the thought of Meg only fuelled his anger. How could these fools dare insult him… and her as well? How could they speak as if all people who concerned themselves with him were insane? Fury spread through Erik´s body like flames. The last time he had had this emotion he had disfigured the left side of his face. Absent-mindedly he reached up to touch the mask with his gloved fingertips. Even weeks later he wasn´t entirely used to it. He had always enjoyed to feel fresh air at least on one part of his face. Yet the new mask covered everything apart from his mouth. Occasionally Meg complained that it pressed uncomfortably against her skin while they were kissing, but Erik would never remove it. He wasn´t going to let Meg pay for his own stupidity.

This time not he would pay either. This time it wasn´t his fault. The managers and their dirty lies were responsible for his anger and they´d have to deal with the consequences. After all, it was his opera, not theirs. It was about time that he reminded them of this fact. When Mme.Giry came to the dressing room it was empty.

**Author´s note II:** I hope you didn´t forget Erik´s disfigurement. I didn´t forget it either-I just had to wait forthe right moment to tell you how he copes with it. The mask he wears now has about the size and form of the one on the stage show posters. Or like the one Claude Rains wore in the 1943 movie...


	10. Be prepared

**10) Be prepared**

"Erik? I´m-" Meg stopped in mid-sentence as she entered the room and saw that he was no longer there. She was a little surprised to meet her mother instead. "Where is Erik?", the girl asked. Mme.Giry shrugged. "When I came here to talk to him he had already left.", she told her. "I don´t know where he could be."

"We´ll find out.", Meg said, her voice full of determination. She had spent the last ten minutes persuading Ariane that Erik, or rather the Opera Ghost, was not Evil personified. She doubted it had left much of an impression on the girl. The others had done a good job in terrifying her. Nevertheless Meg wanted to be rewarded for the attempt. And she knew just the person to do that.

She went straight to Christine´s dressing room. Her mother followed her, a bit curious to see what she was up to, although it was quite obvious. When the door ha been closed behind the two of them Meg wasted no time. She took the stool that stood at the dressing table and placed it in front of the mirror. The she stepped onto it and let her fingers glide over the upper edge slowly. She was looking for the switch that activated the mechanism to open the secret passage, just like Erik had shown her. Of course he could reach it without something to stand on, but being almost a foot smaller than he Meg couldn´t do that.

At last she found the switch… but the mirror didn´t budge. Increasingly annoyed she tried it again and again till Mme.Giry´s voice made her stop. "Perhaps he has blocked the entrance because he´s composing and doesn´t want to be disturbed.", she said softly. "You could be right.", Meg muttered, reluctantly leaving her place on the stool. Now that her mother mentioned it she recalled that Erik had told her about phases in which he withdraw from the outside world – even more so than usual. This was a good explanation, much more comforting than the nagging feeling in her stomach telling her that for some reason he didn´t want to meet _her_.

"Anyway, you can make another attempt in the evening. Maybe he´ll be finished by then.", Mme.Giry suggested, putting a hand on her daughter´s shoulder. Meg gave a little sigh. "But maman! Don´t you remember that M.Devoiraux has invited me for dinner again tonight? I won´t have time to go to the opera." She examined herself critically in the mirror. "I´m running out of boring clothes.", she muttered. "Wear that black skirt you bought for great-aunt Cecile´s funeral.", her mother advised her with a smile. It was good to hear that Meg could joke about the topic.

The girl nodded pensively. "This will be the first time without you to support me.", she said. "It wasn´t possible anymore.", Mme.Giry told her. "He visited me in my office this morning, only to ask for your approval. I couldn´t reject his invitation again." "I know, I know.", Meg exclaimed, shrugging off her hand. She couldn´t bear her mother´s sympathy right now.

"At least you´ll meet in a restaurant, a public place.", the ballet teacher said, trying to comfort her. "Yes. Yes, it won´t be that bad.", Meg agreed. She just spoke like that to make her mother feel less guilty for having to let her go alone. But she was far from convinced by her words. After all, the last restaurant had been a public place as well, and that hadn´t kept Pierre from anything.

"Shall we go now? There are some frightened ballet girls I have to take care of.", the older woman said. Once more Meg nodded. There was nothing she could do now anyway. She cast the mirror a last glance and left after her mother.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

´Composing´, as Mme.Giry had called it, was a very euphemistic term for what Erik was doing at the moment. In fact he was hammering on the keys of his organ like a maniac. For some reason the result still sounded good, in a powerful and noisy way. The notes floated through the air, quickly leaving behind the house, as if walls didn´t even exist. The music lay over the lake like thick fog and echoed through the passages. It clouded the senses of the only other person to hear it. The rat catcher, who had dutifully led the rats into the sewers, shook his head and made his way back. This was a strange place, that much was certain.

After a while Erik stopped. If he had been someone else, his fingers would have been aching. But he was so used to this method of calming down that he hardly noticed the pain. Music was his medicine for every illness, and it had also worked today. His mind was perfectly clear; a plan was starting to form in it. Without thinking about it he reached for a bottle of ink, a quill and a piece of parchment and began to scribble feverishly.

The plan was good, very good. Some details had to be added every here and there, yet all in all it was ready in his head. There were some things he had to buy or get in a different way, but he still had enough time. The first night of the new opera would be in a few weeks. And that would be just the right moment.


	11. This growing need to be beside her

**11) This growing need to be beside her**

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful… almost uneventful, that is. The stage had been cleaned of blood and rat droppings and was just as spotless as before. So the rehearsal could take place at last. The new steps were difficult, but Meg was glad about it. As long as her mind was focused on moving her arms and legs at the right moment her thoughts couldn´t wander to the blocked mirror and what might happen behind it.

Yet the other girls didn´t make it easier to concentrate either. Every time one of them spotted a strange shadow or heard a sound she would stop dead and squeal at once. This would cause several others to squeal as well, and before long Meg was the only calm girl. She exchanged a glance of deep understanding with her mother, and they both sighed, wishing the rehearsal would have been postponed to the next day.

Suddenly there was a terrible noise. It sounded like breaking glass and wood. Then a dark figure came limping onto the stage. The girls´ nervousness turned into hysteria. Their screaming was much louder than the sounds before. The whole place was full of girls running around pointlessly, yelling things like: "He´s here! The ghost! He´s here!".

"What do you think you´re doing here?", Mme.Giry asked in a piercing voice that could even be heard with all the shouting. The figure bowed politely. "I´m sorry, madame.", he said. "I knocked over the table with the refreshments for the chorus. I must have tripped over something." By now Meg, who was neither screaming nor running around, had recognised the man. It was the rat catcher.

He gave the still completely confused girls what he probably considered an innocent smile. But it didn´t look very sincere. "I apologise for having disturbed you.", he called, shaking his head. "I don´t even know why I´m here. I wanted to go home, and suddenly something made me enter the stage." He bowed again and left. Mme.Giry glared at him. She didn´t believe a word of what he had said. Sometimes she had the impression that this man enjoyed a commotion as much as the animals he was supposed to catch. Then she pulled herself together. "What are you waiting for, mesdemoiselles? We´ll start from the fifth bar."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Two hours later Meg was at home again. Just as she had predicted she hadn´t had enough time to slip into Christine´s dressing room again. The incident involving the rat catcher had even increased the amount of gossip. Most girls were convinced that his mind had been controlled by the Opera Ghost to produce more mayhem. Meg didn´t think so, but her explanations that he had only tried to find an excuse for his own clumsiness had fallen on deaf ears. Talking it over and over again had cost a lot of time.

Now she stood in front of a mirror, yet not the one she´d have preferred. It was the much smaller mirror in her room, in which she had a close look at the clothes for the evening. She had followed her mother´s suggestion and wore the black skirt, together with a plain white blouse. She didn´t care that M.Devoiraux had seen her wear a similar piece of clothing yesterday. Maybe he´d understand at last how little he meant to her. Both Mme.Giry and Erik had been strict about this point: If he decided to stop meeting her, it would be all right, but she wasn´t allowed to speed up things.

If only he´d find someone else! But then, this wouldn´t change a thing. She´d have to start seeing other men. How she wished she could end all this and only be with the man she loved! She made a face and turned away from the mirror. It was pointless to think about it now. Hearing an impatient knock at the door she grabbed her handbag from a chair and put out the light.

She went down the stairs quickly and opened the door. Pierre Devoiraux leaned against the doorframe, giving her his most brilliant smile. She couldn´t help noticing that he was quite attractive in his black suit with dark green tie, his blond hair shining. If she had been more shallow, more interested in appearances, she could have even found him handsome. But under the given circumstances she´d have preferred ten hours of talking to Ariane about the Opera Ghost.

"Meg, my dear, how are you?", Pierre exclaimed in a booming voice, grasping her hand and placing a soft kiss on it. The girl´s first impulse was to wipe it on her skirt, but as he hadn´t let go of her this was impossible. She managed a faint smile and said: "I´m fine. Thank you for asking.". Smiling even wider he led her to his coach and made her sit down.

To her horror he took the seat next to her. On their previous encounters Mme.Giry had insisted on sitting next to her daughter, but now she wasn´t there. Pierre seemed to have had the same thought for he said: "It´s lovely to be here all alone, isn´t it?". Not knowing the true reason for her angry look he added: "Don´t misunderstand me. Your mother is a fine woman. There are just some things we couldn´t do in front of her.".

With these words his hand landed on her knee. Meg´s cheeks flushed. How could she stop him without being impolite? She couldn´t think of a solution, except closing her eyes and hoping they´d arrive at the restaurant soon. So she did exactly that. It only took moments till his mouth met hers. Meg pressed her lips tightly together. The mere idea of feeling his tongue made her sick. However, she could do nothing against his hand wandering further upwards… and further… and further-

Abruptly the coach came to a halt. Irritated Pierre pulled back his hand. "We´re there.", the coachman called, opening the door. Meg could have kissed him. She left the coach hastily before her companion could take her hand again. He went after her, shaking his head slightly. What a whirlwind! Maybe she was simply very hungry. He caught up with her as she entered the restaurant. He leaned closer to whisper into her ear: "I hope we´ll find a nice table, just for the two of-". "Christine! Raoul!", Meg exclaimed, seeing her friends sitting in a corner. Perhaps the evening would turn out to be better than expected.


	12. Tell me more please show me

**Author´s note:** Thanks for all the nice rewiews! They really make my day.

**12) Tell me more... please show me**

It was the first time that Christine and Raoul were going out. This might sound strange, given the fact that they had met at least two or three times for the last three months. But these encounters had been limited to Raoul´s bedroom… or the corridor… sometimes the kitchen. Never before had the two people been seen as a couple in public. They were well aware of the curious glances and whispers at the other tables, although all that was very discreet. This was one of the most noble restaurants in Paris, after all.

Knowing how much it meant to Raoul Christine had agreed to come here with him, to grant him this one favour. They both knew it was a test – a test to show the girl what her life would be like if she accepted his proposal. Raoul did his best to pass; he was as charming and courteous as possible. His mouth was in a state of permanent smiling, but it didn´t resemble the waiters´ frozen smiles. He was simply unbelievably happy to have her at his side. Occasionally, when Christine looked at him with these beautiful eyes or her hand accidentally brushed against his, he could hardly keep himself from pinching his arm to check if he wasn´t dreaming.

Christine felt more comfortable that she had expected. The restaurant Raoul had chosen was lovely, with heavy silver candelabras and vases with white roses on each table. And Raoul himself… he was perfect. Even his slight nervousness was quite appealing. The girl almost wished she could reward him in the way he longed for. But she couldn´t. So he kept waiting patiently – he had had a lot of practice – and she tried to avoid his eye, despite a few sympathetic glances.

By the time Meg called their names so cheerfully they had ordered their dinner and just started their second glass of wine. "Oh, they have to sit with us.", Christine said in a whisper. "Meg hates this man. Perhaps we can help her deal with him." Raoul considered his options quickly. He liked Christine´s best friend, but the atmosphere he had worked so hard on maintaining would be destroyed. Still he nodded. He couldn´t deny his beloved a wish. Besides, the table they had been given was large enough for two more people to sit at.

Meanwhile Meg had approached them, just in time to see Raoul nod. She could easily guess what they had been talking about and smiled brightly. Not bothering to ask Pierre first she said: "It´s all right when he take these two seats, isn´t it? There is so much we have to discuss, Christine. At the opera we have little time to share the latest gossip." "Of course it´s all right.", Christine replied as she and Raoul stood up to greet them.

"M.Devoiraux, may I introduce you to Christine Daaé?", Meg muttered politely. Pierre frowned slightly about her constant refusal to use his first name, but the frown gave way to a radiant smile as he set eyes on Christine, secretly wondering how many pretty girls the Opéra Populaire had to offer. "I am very pleased to meet you, Mlle.Daaé. I hope you won´t think me insolent for telling you that you sung the role of Elissa like a nightingale.", he said, kissing her hand. Christine tried hard not to make a disgusted face as she asked herself if she had ever got a sloppier kiss. "Bon soir, M.Devoiraux.", she murmured.

"And this is Raoul-" "But we already know each other.", Pierre interrupted Meg, seizing the hand of the slightly startled Raoul and obviously trying to crush it with his own. "After all, we´re patrons of the same opera." "How nice to meet you, M.Devoiraux.", Raoul said through gritted teeth, squeezing his hand as strongly as he could. If he had recognised Meg´s companion sooner, he might have rejected. His feelings towards Pierre were not very different from Meg´s.

Suppressing the urge to massage his aching fingers he leaned forwards and let his lips brush over Meg´s hand briefly. The girl blushed a little and couldn´t help thinking that Christine´s companion for the evening was far better than her own. They all sat down; Meg and Pierre were next to each other, facing the other two. Before one of them could say a word a waiter came to the table. At once Pierre ordered a bottle of the same wine that already stood in front of Raoul and the best dinner the restaurant offered. The three others were equally appalled by his arrogant behaviour, but neither of them commented on it.

The tense silence that followed the waiter´s departure was finally broken by Raoul, who asked the other man about his business. Pierre´s father had earned a fortune by importing expensive fur coats, which were very popular in Paris. All his son had to do was keep up the old contacts and represent the company at social events. Yet even though he had nothing to do with the actual production, he loved talking about it. A quarter of an hour later Raoul and the girls knew more about fur trade than they had ever wanted to know.

When he started explaining the details of skinning he was fortunately stopped by the arrival of their dinner before he could go into much detail. Christine gave a soundless sigh of relief. Her stomach was still too sensitive from her throwing up this afternoon to be tormented like that. During the next minutes the air was filled with the sounds of clattering cutlery and jingling glasses. Christine eyed her salad warily and only took a couple of bites, but the others tucked in.

Soon the plates had vanished from the table, and they agreed on emptying their glasses before leaving. In Pierre´s case it was the third or fourth glass. His voice was much too loud as he exclaimed: "Aren´t we the luckiest men in this place, M. le Vicomte? We have the most beautiful girls right at our side!". He leaned closer to give Meg a clumsy kiss on the cheek. The girl endured it, just as she endured it that he took her hand. At least his hand was occupied and couldn´t wander to her leg like in the coach.

"Yes, we´re… quite lucky.", Raoul said uneasily, exchanging a nervous glance with Christine. It was clear that Meg was uncomfortable, even though she tried her best to smile. But they couldn´t do anything. Raoul eventually reached for the bottle and emptied the contents into Pierre´s glass. His intention was to distract him from Meg, at least for a little while.

It had just the opposite effect: Realising that the others were not looking at him Pierre whispered: "Wait till we are in the coach, my dear! I have plans for us… big plans…". Meg turned her head and saw that his dark blue eyes were shining with lust. She was so scared by this sight that she didn´t pay attention to the rest of him. Quickly he led her hand to the juncture of his legs. Meg jumped as she felt a certain something awake beneath the fabric of his trousers. She struggled to break free from his grip, but he was too strong. "Come on!", he murmured, moving her hand up and down. "This is only a little foretaste."

That was too much. Meg finally freed herself and jumped up. "I´m sorry… I need… a bit of fresh air.", she stammered and left the restaurant. For a second the three remaining people started at each other. All this had happened so quickly that Christine and Raoul hadn´t even noticed it before it had been too late. Then the girl followed her friend. Raoul shrugged. "Maybe too much wine…", he commented.


	13. Friend like me

**Author´s note:** All reviews make me write a little faster. Some make me think. And some make me write completely random stuff like that: _The next day Meg came down to Erik´s lair. "Why did you lock the mirror yesterday?", she asked. "I wanted to spend some time with Mary-S... I mean, with Ariane.", he replied. "I love her so much more than you. She´s just perfect." Hearing something Meg went on: "When you´re here with me, who´s playing the organ?". "The Vicomte, of course.", Erik said. "We´ve discovered how much we have in common. He´s almost like me, just without a mask."._ Okay, that was a creative way of dealing with reviews. Admittedly it´s nonsense and would never happen like that. Still I hope you liked it. It included several things: 1) No, Ariane is not a Mary-Sue. I´m allergic to Mary-Sues. 2) Erik blocked the mirror because he wanted to spend some time alone to develop his plan. Completely alone - not with Ariane (that was a joke). 3) I loved the comment about Raoul resembling Erik.

**13) Friend like me**

Meg´s flight had ended just a few steps outside the restaurant. Christine found her standing next to one of the coaches, her fingers absent-mindedly running through the thick mane of a slender black horse. The coachman watched her with an amused grin. Christine threw him an extremely unfriendly glance, and he turned his head into the other direction at once.

She walked up to her friend and started stroking the horse as well. It snorted contentedly, and Christine smiled. The animal reminded her of César, a horse in the opera stables she was quite fond of ever since she had first seen it. Of course César was white, but their manes felt very similar. She had to visit the stables again soon.

A sniffing sound brought the present situation back to her mind. Looking at Meg, who desperately tried to hold back tears, she scolded herself for thinking about horses while her friend was miserable. "What happened?", she asked, almost in a whisper. Meg stared at her incredulously. "Didn´t you see it? He made me touch his… his _thing_!" Her voice had become louder and louder, so that the last word had been practically a shout. The coachman gave a snort of laughter. Another deadly glance from Christine made him leave his seat rather quickly.

"That´s terrible.", Christine muttered, putting an arm around the other girl´s shoulder. "Tell me about it!", Meg mumbled. "How could he do such a thing? Did he assume I´d enjoy it? But I haven´t even said I liked him." "Well, he drank far too much alcohol.", Christine stated, feeling a little guilty. Perhaps she should have told Raoul to stop him from emptying glass after glass. "I´m sure his behaviour is much better when he´s sober." She gave her a reassuming smile.

Meg returned her gaze to the horse. A single tear trickled down her face and into its mane. It was shining in the moonlight for a moment, then it was gone. "I wish it was like that.", she said in a small voice. "All right, this was the first time he has gone that far, but all in all it wasn´t very unusual for him." "Really?", Christine asked anxiously. The situation was much worse that she had expected. Up to now she had thought M.Devoiraux a fairly unpleasant man, but she hadn´t imagined he´d nearly abuse her friend in the middle of a public place. Meg nodded glumly.

"Could Raoul and you take me home in his coach if it´s not too much effort?", she wanted to know. "Certainly.", Christine replied kindly. "We´d never let you alone with this… man." She turned Meg around to face her. Examining her critically she commented: "Your eyes are only a bit red – in his state he won´t even notice it. Can we go back then?" "Yes.", Meg said.

They had almost reached the door when Meg made the other girl stop for a moment. "Please don´t tell Erik about this incident.", she whispered, tugging at her sleeve like a little child. Christine inhaled sharply. Once more it occurred to her that she could talk to Meg very well as long as she managed to repress any thought about the connection of her best friend to the man she loved as well. Trying to ignore the dull throbbing in her heart she merely asked: "Are you sure? He´d want to know it. Besides, he wouldn´t insist on you meeting this Pierre again.".

"But don´t you see?", Meg exclaimed. "If Erik hears about it, there will be no Pierre for me to meet again. Erik would kill him…" Her eyes were wide with fear. As much as she despised Pierre she didn´t want his blood to end up on Erik´s hands. "I don´t think he´d do that.", the other girl said gently. "Still… I won´t tell him. Better safe than sorry!"

They made their way back to the table in silence. The men still sat like when they had left them. Raoul had needed all his eloquence to keep Pierre from going after them. He seemed to be worried about Meg´s well-being. The shock about her simply rushing out of the room had made him a little more sober for a few seconds. "What´s the matter, my dear?", he asked. "Is there anything I can do for you?" Meg couldn´t help wondering whether the concern in his voice was real. However, she could not forget what he had done, even if he sounded sincere now.

"She was just feeling faint.", Christine explained, giving her friend´s shoulder a little squeeze. "She hadn´t eaten properly all day, due to the rehearsals, and then the alcohol… it was an unfortunate combination." "I see.", Pierre said slowly. "Well, I guess I shall bring you home at once." "No!", the three other called in unison. The man looked startled. "Why not?"

Raoul was the first to come up with an excuse. "We can do that for you. Christine, didn´t you need something from Meg anyway?" The girl nodded eagerly. "Yes, I… I threw my costume into Meg´s bag instead of my own this afternoon and she has accidentally taken it with her. But… one of the seams has burst, so I have to sew it tonight. Meg, if you wouldn´t mind giving it back to me…" "Of course not!", Meg said, almost too enthusiastically. "It is in my room. You can get it as soon as we´re there."

"Oh…", Pierre made. "All right. We´ll see each other tomorrow. Of course I´ll attend the rehearsal." "Of course…", Meg muttered. He wanted to stand up, but Raoul was faster. He had already left his seat and placed a hand on Pierre´s shoulder, gently pressing him down. He only had a vague idea of what had happened earlier, yet with one quick glance at Meg he noticed that she probably wouldn´t survive being kissed good bye. "Why don´t you stay here a little while and finish your wine?", he suggested.

He pulled out his purse, only to be stopped by Pierre. "I´ll pay.", he said simply, reaching for his glass, but only managing to grasp it on the second attempt. "It was such a pleasure to meet you." "Well… erm… thank you!", Raoul mumbled, not really knowing what else to reply. Noticing that the girls were already gone he turned to leave as well. Pierre held him back for a moment. "Make sure my little girl goes to bed soon!", he said. He seemed to have difficulties in getting the picture before his eyes into focus, and Raoul made a mental note to tell the waiter to bring another bottle of wine to the table. Maybe the man would become so drunk that he´d miss the rehearsal. The thought made him smile. Meg would be grateful.

Apparently Pierre had seen the smile for he added: "But I don´t mean your bed!". It was slightly ridiculous how he made an attempt to look threatening. "Do you think I didn´t see the glances you threw her all the time? You dreamed of taking both of them, didn´t you? I have to warn you, monsieur…" He came into a standing position at last, though he had to clutch the back of his chair for support. "Do with the other girl whatever you please, but Meg´s mine." "Of course.", Raoul said, hardly able to keep himself from laughing. The sight of the completely inebriated Pierre was lovely. He walked away, only briefly stopping to talk to the waiter, while Pierre sank down onto his chair again, proud that he had made his point clear.

Raoul entered the coach the two girls were already sitting in. Neither of them felt like speaking during their journey. "Would you like me to come in and stay a little while with you?", Christine asked as they reached Meg´s home. "No.", she replied, climbing out of the coach. She didn´t want to talk it all over. She forced herself to smile. "Thank you for everything! You too, Raoul!" "It was the least thing we could do.", he said seriously.

"You were wonderful tonight.", Christine whispered when they had said good bye to Meg and the coach was moving again. "I mean, she is _my_ best friend, and for you… It was very friendly. If you can think of a way how I can repay you…" She snuggled up to him and rested her head against his shoulder while one of her hands moved down his chest. Raoul shook his head slightly. "Not in _that_ way, Christine. You´d make me very happy if you could come home with me, so that we could talk." It almost sounded like a plea. Slowly the girl nodded.


	14. Once upon a dream

**Author´s note:** This chapter contains a couple of things that are a little... bizarre, especially the second part written in italics. If you have a weak stomach, you might want to skip that one. And If you do read all of it: I´d love to have some interpretations of the dreams. I think it´s most interesting how different people see it.

**14) Once upon a dream**

_Meg smiled contentedly. Finally she was with Erik again. She was lying on the bed that had once belonged to Christine. The dark red sheets and covers were a striking contrast to her fair skin, which was illuminated by the light of dozens of candles. He looked down at her lovingly. Seeing his bare chest she licked her lips in anticipation, imagining running her tongue over the flawless flesh._

_Erik leaned down, and their mouths melted in a passionate kiss. The candles, the soft bed – everything was prefect, ideal for the two of them. Meg felt heady with the atmosphere. Soon the kiss grew more heated, and she wrapped her arms around him to pull him closer. In the same second she knew it had been a terrible mistake. She had no idea why she knew it; she simply did._

"_Who has given you permission to touch me with your filthy little hands?", he asked in a thunderous voice. A moment later he had seized her hands and held them over her head. His chest was pressing against hers uncomfortably. She felt as if his weight was about to suffocate her, just like she had felt when he had tried to force himself on her that one night. "Erik, please… you´re hurting me.", she whispered, terrified._

"_But I´m only doing what I told you. Don´t you remember? I told you that I had plans for us once we´re in the coach." He snapped his fingers, and the entire room turned into a coach. And Erik… Meg didn´t need to look up to know it was no longer Erik. During his last words his voice had become slightly higher and the colour of his hair had changed from dark into blond. Pierre Devoiraux was staring at her with his lustful gaze, pinning her onto the seat._

_"I haven´t even said I liked you!", Meg cried. Pierre merely grinned. "And you think that´s necessary for doing these things? Erik didn´t say he liked you either before tearing your clothes and throwing you onto the sofa…" The girl was twisting madly, but even though he was no longer holding her, she couldn´t move. She was completely at his mercy._

Meg woke up with a start. Her chest was heaving and falling rapidly. As she reached for the glass of water on her bedside table, not bothering to light a candle, she could almost feel strong masculine hands around her wrists. What a dreadful nightmare! She took a long gulp, then put the glass back onto the table. The girl placed her head on the pillow again and tried to empty her mind of all negative thoughts. This was a method that usually worked very well for her, and it also worked now. After a little while her breathing returned to its normal speed, and she drifted back to sleep.

_"It´s a wonderful place, isn´t it?", Erik remarked, lifting his glass of red wine to his lips. "Well, it´s nice because you´ve invited me.", Meg replied. "The last time I´ve been here with Pierre, and I wouldn´t say I liked it very much. But now…" She let her gaze wander around in the restaurant. "Why are there no other people, Erik?" "We don´t need anyone else.", he answered. "You have to get used to the solitude."_

_Smiling gently Meg observed: "They´ve changed the _decoration_. Last time the roses were white, and now they´re red… except this one.". Carefully she singled out one of the flowers and handed it to him. "They all used to be like this once.", Erik whispered. "White, pure, innocent. I had to dye them myself." He held the rose to his chest. Meg gasped in shock as she noticed that each and every cut had burst open and was shining with fresh blood. Suddenly Christine´s voice sounded through the room: "I tried sewing them, but it was impossible. They keep re-opening, all by themselves."._

_As soon as the petals touched one of the cuts the rose turned dark red. "Do you know who this rose is?", he asked conversationally, placing the flower in a new vase. "It´s you, Meg Giry. My blood tainted your innocence, making you impure. You should have been glad that a man like Pierre wanted you. But you were too foolish to appreciate it. Now you´re stuck with me. And I have to warn you: Some wounds never close. See?" He pointed at his chest, and all cuts started bleeding simultaneously._

"_It wasn´t me who did this to you!", Meg called. "Of course it was you.", he said matter-of-factly. The girl felt something cold on her palm and realised that her hand was clenched into a fist around a razor. She lifted her arm. A small steady trickle of blood ran down it when she squeezed her hand more tightly. "How friendly of you to help me.", Erik remarked. "There is still so much to do." His hands vanished under the table for a second, and as they re-appeared they carried a gigantic bouquet of white roses._

"_You made me what I am now, Meg, so it´s only logical that you have to stay with me and work to repay me.", he said calmly, picking up one of the flowers. "I´m sorry.", Meg muttered. "I didn´t mean to… I´m sorry…I´m-"_

Meg´s eyes snapped open. She was so relieved about waking up that she could have cried. This time she lit a candle at once. The darkness was oppressive. Briefly she thought about going to her mother, but decided against it. She was no longer a child; she had to deal with this kind of problem on her own. So she sat there, shaking from head to toe. She had wrapped her arms around her knees and was rocking back and forth. "They´re just dreams… just dreams…", she muttered under her breath, waiting for the night to end.


	15. I will protect you

**15) I will protect you**

Erik liked the streets at this time of day, or rather night. They were wonderfully quiet without the rattling of coaches and the talking and shouting of hundreds of people. He enjoyed going for a walk every now and then, and after hours of writing down all the details of his plan he needed to relax before he could either go to bed or do some more composing, which was more likely.

The streets were even emptier than usual because of heavy showers. The few people still outside – mostly women wearing too much make-up and too little clothing who were waiting for their last customers – had withdrawn to the entrances of houses or backyards. They didn´t even try calling out to him, knowing his determined strides wouldn´t take him to one of them. He wasn´t the type of man who visited them. Erik was glad about being left in peace. He also didn´t mind the rain. His cloak and fedora kept him dry.

He didn´t care which way he took. Everything looked quite similar in the dark… except one house, which he´d have recognised among a thousand others. And it was exactly this house he found himself in front of after a while. His feet had carried him here automatically. It was Meg´s home. But as much as he longed for knocking at the door, he couldn´t just do it, not this late at night. He knew what a big concession of Mme.Giry it was to let him be with her daughter at all, and he wouldn´t risk it by such a stupid behaviour.

But while he mentally prepared himself to leave again he noticed a tiny flickering of light at one of the windows, as if a single candle was burning behind it. Though he had only been there once, on that memorable night three months ago, he was certain the window belonged to Meg´s room. Erik sighed, his gaze wandering from the house to the street he had to take to return to the opera and back several times. Of course he was interested in why his beloved wasn´t asleep yet. Or was she? Maybe she had forgotten to extinguish the candle, and now it could set the whole house on fire. He didn´t really believe this excuse, but it was enough to make him approach the entrance door.

Opening it would be absolutely no problem. Over the years he had learned a lot of very useful tricks, some because he had needed them and some because he was fascinated with the gain of knowledge. The task that lay in front of him wouldn´t be too difficult – he only had to make sure he wouldn´t damage the wood. When he tentatively pushed down the door handle the door swung open. It hadn´t been locked. Stepping inside Erik shook his head about this carelessness. Every body could enter the house just like that.

He made his way up the stairs, fervently hoping Mme.Giry wouldn´t pick this moment to go to the kitchen for a glass of water or to do a similar activity which made it necessary to leave her bedroom. Erik didn´t produce more noise than a mouse, but he couldn´t make himself invisible. If she came down the stairs now, she´d surely have many unpleasant questions.

Yet an incident like that didn´t occur. Still his heart was beating quickly as he pushed the door to Meg´s room open, slowly and gradually. He was glad that nobody could see him in this state – the mighty Opera Ghost afraid of entering a girl´s bedroom. Sometimes he did ask himself what had become of him. But then, he had only changed for the better.

Meg was watching the shadows the candle cast on the wall opposite the bed when suddenly the door began to open. A man dressed in black appeared. The girl´s eyes widened in shock. Could it be possible that the figures from her dreams came to haunt her even though she was awake? She let out a shriek. Due to the fact that her body was rigid with fear it hadn´t been very loud, yet in the silence of the house it seemed to have been as shrill as a siren.

Instantly Erik was at her bed, pressing a hand over her mouth. "It´s just me.", he hissed. "Calm down, please! I´m sorry. I didn´t mean to scare you." Having recognised his voice and the feeling of his gloves on her skin Meg nodded. He removed his hand, and she seized the opportunity to take a deep breath. "What are you doing here?", she asked when she had recovered from her shock enough to speak. "Well, I… I like going past your house at night.", he admitted, knowing how strange this had to sound. "I look up to your window and imagine how it would be to sit at your bed, watching you sleep, occasionally brushing some of your beautiful curls out of your face…"

"But you´ve never… actually done it, have you?", Meg whispered. In theory the idea was quite appealing, yet she didn´t like the thought that he might have seen her in one of her boring nightdresses, maybe even snoring. "Of course not.", Erik replied in an indignant voice. "Today was the first time I came in, and I only did it because I saw the light in your room and thought you… could need help."

The girl gave him a relieved smile. Here she was, all alone and tormented by nightmares, and he came along, as if she had called for him. "I didn´t sleep well… stupid dreams.", she explained. Erik nodded. He probably knew more about the topic than any other person on this planet. In most of his dreams he was forced to re-live certain moments in his past, which had already had nightmare quality when they had really happened. The ones which occurred often included the first time he had seen his own face and the moment the slave girl in Persia had refused him. His method of dealing with them was simple: He slept as little as possible. It was quite an effective way, but he doubted it would work for anyone else. Other people seemed to need their sleep more than he did.

"Do you feel like talking about them?", he asked softly, looking down at her with concern in his eyes. She was very pale and gave the impression that she had been awake for hours. He had never practiced the method of talking about dreams himself, but read about it a few times. "I don´t think so.", Meg said. She couldn´t tell the man she loved that he had played the leading role in her nightmares. Erik was a little disappointed by her refusal. Didn´t she trust that he´d try to understand whatever she had dreamed, even if it had been something disgusting? After all, one couldn´t influence one´s dreams. "Do you want me to go?"

Hearing the slight note of sadness the girl felt guilty at once. Making him go and being alone with her fear again was the last thing she wanted. "No. I´m glad you´re here.", she answered. "Could you perhaps stay a little while, till I´m asleep?" "It´ll be a pleasure for me, princess.", he said kindly. Maybe the dreams were upsetting her so much that she couldn´t talk about them at the moment. He could understand that perfectly well. Meg moved forward, creating enough space for him to sit behind her. Determined to stay for not longer than half an hour Erik merely removed his hat and cloak before taking the position she wanted him to and wrapping his arms around her from behind. She leaned her back against his chest and closed her eyes.

"Good night, Erik. Thank you!", she muttered, for the first time since she had woken up truly feeling safe and relaxed. "Good night, Meg.", he whispered, placing a kiss on her cheek. When he blew out the candle, she already was asleep.


	16. A bit alarming

**Author´s note: **Thank you for all the nice reviews! I´m glad you like my story. _Personage of the Underverse:_ Wow, that dream sounds scary. Maybe it means that you shouldn´t go to the zoo for a while... or else choose a different costume for Halloween. _I love Gerry (aka Olivia):_ An interesting interpretation. I can only say: Well, it´s possible. And of course you´re all right in saying that havinga few bad dreams isn´t quite as bad when Erik is coming through the door to comfort you. But then... well, just read on and you´ll see where it may lead.

**16) A bit alarming**

Even still partly asleep Meg noticed how warm and content she was, like a cat curled up into a ball in front of an open fire. She was vaguely aware that there was a strong arm around her waist and another one she was currently using as a pillow. Opening her eyes slowly she saw Erik lying next to her under the blanket. Looking at him her heart grew even warmer. She loved him so much. Smiling she placed a kiss on his chin, the only place she could reach directly when he wore his mask.

Being a light sleeper Erik woke up at once. "Good morning, my dear.", the girl whispered lovingly. "Good morning.", he muttered, straightening up to take in her entire form. She truly resembled a princess, with her cheeks rosy and her blond curls shining like golden threads in the sunlight. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?", he asked in awe. It was still hard to believe that this gorgeous creature was his.

Meg blushed. A moment later her eyes wandered downwards and she could hardly keep herself from bursting into laughter. "It´s practically common knowledge that you´re a man who likes to leaves places quickly, but that´s slightly ridiculous.", she remarked teasingly. Erik threw a brief glance at his own appearance and chuckled, a little embarrassed. The blanket had slipped from his shoulders, revealing what he had already known: He hadn´t taken off a single piece of clothing before falling asleep in this warm comfortable bed next to his Meg. Only his shoes were lying on the floor. His clothes were more or less crushed, a very unusual situation for a man as tidy as him. At least his mask had remained at exactly the right position in his face.

"I shouldn´t have slept here.", he said uneasily, cursing himself for his lack of discipline. He made a fruitless attempt to smooth his shirt by running his palms over it while continuing: "I´m sorry if I have disturbed you.". Meg smiled brightly. "But no! I´m glad you stayed.", she told him. "Otherwise I might not have slept at all." She threw a quick glance out of the window and stated: "The sun has barely risen. We cannot get up yet." Last night had been so full of terrible dreams that she very much felt like sleeping a little more.

Yet it seemed that Erik had other plans. "When does your mother normally wake up?", he asked, his eyes glittering mischievously now that he was sure he hadn´t disturbed his beloved´s sleep, but even improved it. The girl shrugged. "In an hour. Maybe one and a half…", she replied uncertainly. She could only guess how late it was, so it was impossible to be more precise with her answer. He was delighted to hear that. "So we´d still have time for… you know…?" The girl grinned and nodded, feeling excited and also a little naughty.

Erik was quite insecure at first. They had never been together in Meg´s bed, so close to where her mother would hopefully sleep for as long as Meg had predicted. This was why the first kisses he gave her were loving, but not exactly passionate. After a few minutes of anxious listening, however, he grew more self-confident and deepened the kiss. Meg responded by rubbing her body against his, instantly waking up a certain part of him.

Hastily Erik rolled the girl onto her back, gazing down at her lustfully. The curves of her breasts were visible through her plain white nightdress, and he let one of his hands brush over them lightly. Meg´s breathing sped up. Yet it wasn´t caused by excitement anymore. Instead, fear crept up her spine like an ugly spider. ´He´ll do it again.´, it hissed. ´He´ll hold onto you and he´ll take you, and there´s nothing you could do about it.´ Seeing him towering over her, feeling his hands on her body - it was so similar to her dream last night… and even more to the day when he had come to her dressing room. She was paralysed.

Erik noticed how tense her body had suddenly become. It was as if something had frozen her from the inside. "What´s wrong with you, Meg?", he asked softly. Had he proceeded too quickly, possibly hurting her with his fingers? He moved them away, letting them rest next to her head instead. "I… I don´t want this.", she whispered, feeling even more trapped beneath his body with his hand so close to her head. What if he wanted to gag her again? "Please let me go!" He looked at her, puzzled. Let her go? He hadn´t even been holding her in the first place. "Please!", she begged him, and he left his position, settling down at least a foot away from her. The words she spoke didn´t make sense. Still he had the impression that he knew them, as if she had said them once before.

Then everything fell into place. _´Let me go, monsieur…please!´_ were the words that had appeared countless times in the worst kind of his nightmares, the ones in which he tried to force himself on Meg again, sometimes even succeeding. Obviously she had the same dreams, which also influenced her behaviour when she was awake. This was what kept her from sleeping. And everything was his fault. No wonder that she hadn´t told him about the contents of her nightmares!

He couldn´t help wondering whether this had happened before. He imagined her waking up, screaming ´No, Erik! Please don´t do this to me again!´. Had she perhaps even met him the next day, pretending that everything was as usual, enduring his caresses while feeling like throwing up? If he really knew he as well as he had thought, why hadn´t he noticed anything before this outburst?

Erik stared at the completely distraught girl helplessly. By now there were tears in her eyes. She had to be very afraid of him. When he touched her shoulder cautiously she jumped, and he pulled back his hand, sighing in resignation. "Shall I better leave you in peace?", he asked bitterly. "I don´t know.", Meg answered miserably. Five minutes ago she had longed for being touched by him, and now she felt very strange: A part of her wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible, and another part wanted him to take her into his arms and comfort her. But she couldn´t have both things at once, could she?

"Perhaps it´s best if you go. I need some time for myself.", she finally said. Her teeth were chattering. She had to calm down; at the moment she couldn´t think straight. He nodded slowly and stood up. "Of course you can have as much time as you need. I apologise for whatever I may have done.", he told her seriously. Then he picked up his cloak and fedora and made his way to the door. "Just don´t forget that I love you.", he muttered, opening it. Erik didn´t dare look back at her or wait for a reply. The last sound he heard before closing the door from the outside was Meg´s barely suppressed sobbing.


	17. Treasure every instant

**17) Treasure every instant**

This night had been like a gift to Raoul. Admittedly Christine and he hadn´t talked as much as he´d have liked to. The mere fact that she had really sat in his living room had made him strangely lost for words, almost as if he had been afraid she might dissolve the moment he said something wrong. Their conversation had mostly been about Pierre´s assault on Meg and how disgusting it had been. Although Christine hadn´t explicitly said so, he had sensed that she was glad about having a more pleasant companion.

Even though he had been encouraged by this, he hadn´t dared bring up the topic of marriage. Maybe she´d reject right away if he forced her to decide too soon. She had told him she had quite enjoyed the evening, apart from the part with Pierre, and he had hastily assured her that not all rich people were like him. She could apparently imagine belonging to Raoul´s part of society. All in all the conversation could have been much worse. At least there had been no awkward silence.

She had agreed to stay for the night, and - this was the best thing about it – they had not made love. Any other man would have thought Raoul insane for appreciating this. Yet after months of sex which hadn´t meant a thing to her he had been very happy about simply falling asleep with the knowledge that his beloved was right next to him.

Now he was awake for several minutes, watching her closely. Who knew if such an opportunity would ever come again? She looked like a goddess, but that wasn´t important. He´d still love her if she had the appearance of a scarecrow. He loved her because she was Christine, _his_ Christine. Even if her heart belonged to somebody else.

But this moment was too precious to be wasted pondering. He bent over her, letting his face hover inches above hers. She smelled faintly of the scented soap she used. Raoul had grown to love this scent. If his life had been perfect, she would have woken up and kissed him now. It didn´t happen, but he hadn´t expected it either. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. He was afraid it could disturb her.

Christine was pulled out of her dreams by warm breath tickling her face. Her initial thought was ´Erik!´. He was her first thought in the morning and the last in the evening. But even with her mind still a little sleepy she knew it couldn´t be him. It was someone else. "Raoul…", she whispered.

Raoul beamed at her. This had sounded so much better than the last time she had said his name after waking up. Or did he just imagine that there had been less disappointment in her voice? Yes, he probably overrated the meaning of this one word. But then, he couldn´t be too picky. He longed for any signs of that she might like him. "Good morning, love.", he said, boldly using a term of affection. The girl raised an eyebrow questioningly, but didn´t comment on his new bravery.

"Good morning, Raoul.", she muttered automatically and watched in surprise how the expression on his face rapidly changed from cheerful to sad. Raoul himself had no idea why he was so devastated all of a sudden. Had he expected her to use a term of affection as well, maybe even to say that she loved him and wanted to become his wife? ´Stop dreaming, Raoul!´, a voice in his head told him sharply. It sounded very much like his brother Philippe. ´This isn´t some fairytale. She didn´t love you when she fell asleep and she doesn´t love you now.´

Christine couldn´t bear seeing him like this, knowing perfectly well she was the reason. It wasn´t as if his well-being didn´t matter to her at all. He was still her best friend, even though she kept hurting him. Maybe she could at least make him feel better for a second. So she reached up, cupped his face in her hands and pressed her lips against his. Raoul stared at her in disbelief and held his breath, afraid of destroying the moment. They had kissed very often, yet it had always happened when their senses had already been clouded with lust. This kiss was different, almost… loving.

Like all good things it was over rather quickly. Looking into his eyes the girl noticed the love in them and felt more guilty that after their usual lovemaking. She had wanted to comfort him, but not by raising his hopes. "I´m sorry.", she said sheepishly, standing up quickly. "It´s all right.", he muttered, though his voice made clear that nothing was all right. He asked himself how much longer his heart would endure being thrown up and down. One day she wouldn´t be able to catch it, and it would fall to the ground and shatter into a thousand pieces.

With a slight smile he saw that she didn´t get her clothes as she normally did, but put on a dressing gown over her nightdress. Obviously she wanted to go to the bathroom. "Will you stay for breakfast?", he asked, sitting up. "If you want me to… of course.", she called over her shoulder. She didn´t know that her answer had made his day. His heart was soaring into the air again.


	18. I will find my way

**18) I will find my way**

Mme.Giry was neither blind nor stupid. She knew there was something wrong with her daughter, even before she had set eyes on her in the morning. When Meg was cheerful she could be heard in the entire house, humming and whistling, sometimes even singing. Today the only sound was the opening and closing of doors, and even that seemed to be subdued.

The ballet teacher sat at the kitchen table, sipping her herbal tea and waiting. She was aware that she couldn´t force Meg to talk to her about what was troubling her. Yet perhaps the need to tell someone would overwhelm her sooner or later. Mme.Giry strongly suspected that something had happened yesterday evening with M.Devoiraux. Her daughter had been quiet since she had returned from the restaurant he had invited her to.

The telltale snapping shut of the entrance door interrupted her thoughts. Apparently Meg didn´t feel like meeting her mother at the moment and had already left for the opera. Mme.Giry emptied her cup and filled it a second time. She was in no hurry. Running after Meg would be the most foolish thing she could have done now. She´d surely calm down on the short walk, and perhaps she´d let Christine in on her problem.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Maybe Meg would have indeed done that. But she didn´t attend the lesson this morning. Christine was very surprised about this unusual behaviour. The ballet teacher´s daughter never missed a rehearsal. Christine herself, on the other hand, had only come because she had hoped to meet Meg. The events of the last evening were still making her worried. Could she have done anything to prevent it?

Half-heartedly she began the first exercises. All around her the other girls were doing the same before the lesson started. "You are Christine Daaé, aren´t you?", a small girl standing next to her suddenly asked. Christine nodded and threw Mme.Giry a brief glance. Normally talking wasn´t tolerated during lessons. Yet today the teacher didn´t even seem to have noticed it. Her gaze wandered around restlessly from one possible entrance to stage to the next. Obviously she didn´t know where her daughter was either.

Christine gave a soundless sigh. She had to wait until after the lesson to talk to her, or it would be suspicious. Determined to distract herself she turned to the other girl. She had never seen her before. "Yes, I´m Christine.", she replied. "And you are…?" "Ariane. Ariane Hérder.", the girl said eagerly. "I come from Marseille."

"I guess you´re here because Nicole left." Gossip travelled fast at the opera, and even though she hadn´t been present when Mme.Giry had told the others the good news, Christine had heard about it. "Yes, and I´m so happy about being here. This place has an excellent reputation. The others girls are very friendly as well. They said that lots of interesting people attend the performances."

Ariane giggled breathlessly. "They told me that my chances of attracting the attention of a wealthy patron were very good. Men love dancers, don´t they?" Christine murmured a few words of agreement while groaning and rolling her eyes inwardly. On her first day at the opera she had had other things on her mind than whether she´d find a husband here.

The other girl seemed to be so excited that she stopped her warm up. Christine realised that most girls had done this by now and were chatting idly, occasionally throwing an arm or a leg into the air, pretending to do something sensible. It was a sign of how upset Mme.Giry was that she didn´t shout at them. "I mean, look at that one!", Ariane exclaimed, pointing at a rather handsome young man sitting in the front row of the auditorium. "Isn´t he charming? I think he´s watching me." Christine could hardly keep herself from giving her one of her famous deadly glances. Incidentally she was certain the man was not watching Ariane, but herself. After all, it was Raoul.

"Do you know who he is?", Ariane continued. "Could you…?" A hand was put on Christine´s shoulder, and she turned around to face Mme.Giry. "Do you have a moment?", she asked. "Of course.", Christine answered. The ballet teacher led her away to the edge of the stage, waving at someone. The girl saw that Raoul had stood up and was walking into their direction.

"I wanted to talk to the both of you.", Mme.Giry said in a low voice as soon as Raoul had arrived. "As you´ve surely noticed Meg hasn´t come to the rehearsal. She has left the house in the morning, though. I´d like to know where she is. But I cannot possibly go and look for her myself. After this rehearsal I have a private lesson with the new chorus girl, which I can´t cancel. Could you perhaps search for her?" They nodded.

The woman smiled faintly. She was feeling a little uncomfortable with making Christine and Raoul help her. But her anxiety was stronger than her wish not to be regarded as an overprotective mother. "Thank you. I´ve already thought about where to go. Raoul, could you look for her in the area surrounding the opera? Sometimes she enjoys sitting on a bench in the park or in one of the little cafés. If she´s not there…" She pulled a key out of her pocket and handed it to the man. "Maybe she has gone home again after I had left." "I´ll do what I can.", Raoul promised and made his way to the door.

"And what do you want me to do?", Christine asked instantly. She was desperate to help as well. Besides, the lesson wasn´t that important for her anyway. There were only few dance sequences for her in the new opera. And even if there had been a thousand… Meg was her best friend. Mme.Giry threw her a questioning glance, as if in her opinion the answer was perfectly clear. "You´ll go to Erik."


	19. The power to be strong

**19) The power to be strong**

It didn´t take Raoul long to find Meg. Just as Mme.Giry had predicted it, she sat on a bench in a park not too far away from the opera. She was crumpling a handkerchief in her hands, staring down at it as if there was nothing more important in the world. She noticed neither the bright sunshine nor the cheerfully twittering birds in the trees surrounding the bench.

The young man approached her quickly, almost a little afraid she could leave if he didn´t get to her on time. He sat down next to her quietly. Having let a few moments pass in silence he said: "Meg?". Hearing her name the girl jumped slightly and finally looked up at him. She was a pitiable sight. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, and there were dark circles under them.

Raoul felt a wave of sympathy rush through his body. "I think I know why you didn´t attend the rehearsal.", he told her. Meg frowned. How could he say that? Nobody knew what had happened between Erik and her last night. When she didn´t make a verbal comment Raoul went on: "You didn´t want to meet Pierre Devoiraux, and as he announced he´d come to the opera this morning you preferred not showing up.".

He threw her a questioning glance. "Am I right?", he asked softly. "You don´t have to worry – he wasn´t there. There´s no reason for shedding more tears." In fact, Meg wasn´t crying anymore. But his words only made the wish to do so grow stronger. During the last hours she hadn´t spent a single second thinking about Pierre. What did he matter now? But then, Raoul´s explanation was actually quite sensible. How easy it would make things for her! Yet somehow she didn´t want to lie. Not for the first time Raoul had helped her. He deserved the truth. Besides, maybe she´d feel better after talking about the events of last night.

She cleared her throat. "That´s not the reason why I´m here.", she whispered. Raoul had to lean forwards slightly to understand her. "Why are you here then?", he wanted to know. "Your mother is worried about you. She sent Christine and me to search for you. I was just lucky enough to find you first." He gave her an inviting smile and nodded, encouraging her to go on.

"Well, I had these weird dreams last night.", Meg started slowly. It was difficult to find the right words to describe them. Some parts had already become blurred, but others were still clear on her mind. "In one of them Erik and I were together in his home. We were… kissing, and suddenly he changed. He got violent, holding onto my wrists and saying dreadful things to me. Then he turned into Pierre and tried to… to…" A dry sob escaped her throat, making her unable to go on.

Yet Raoul had understood it. "This must have been terrible for you.", he muttered sympathetically. "But… it was nothing but a silly dream. Why are you so upset about it?" He didn´t want to appear insensitive; he just couldn´t comprehend it. A simple nightmare could impossibly cause such a behaviour. There had to be more.

As if she had read his mind Meg continued: "It´s not just that. I…". She interrupted herself. As much as she wanted him to understand that she wasn´t only a stupid girl who didn´t know the difference between dream and reality, she couldn´t tell him about the other nightmare. It would have inevitably meant explaining everything about how Erik had hurt himself. She was the only one to know about it, and unless Erik´d ever change it, it would remain like that.

"Erik came to me after I had had these dreams.", she said. "I couldn´t sleep, and he agreed to stay with me for a while. He must have fallen asleep as well because he was lying next to me when I woke up some time later." She smiled, recalling how happy she had been in that moment. But her face became serious again quickly.

"He woke up, too, and we kissed and-" Raoul gave a little cough and ran a hand through his hair nervously. There were certain things he didn´t want to imagine, and Christine´s best friend and the Opera Ghost lying in bed together was one of them. Meg looked at him in surprise. She hadn´t planned to get into more detail anyway. "Well, and then the atmosphere changed, almost as rapidly as in my dream. In one moment I was still enjoying it and wanted him to… go on, and in the next I felt trapped under his body and wanted to escape. It was like this evening when he nearly… did violence to me."

"But he didn´t… I mean, he didn´t do anything you hadn´t allowed him to?" Raoul approached the delicate topic carefully. He was still unsure what to think about the relationship of Meg and Erik. He had never seen them together since the night when Erik had come to her while Raoul had been watching her sleep. From what Christine had told him they were very happy. But this didn´t sound like a happy couple.

"Of course not!", Meg cried, shaking her head with so much determination that the blond curls whirled around her. "We had barely started, and I really… wanted him to make love to me." The frankness of her words made both of them blush slightly, yet the girl had had the impression that it had to be said in order to be understood.

She didn´t speak for a minute or two, and Raoul didn´t urge her to. She´d continue when she was ready to. "I guess you know what Pierre tried to make me do yesterday in the restaurant.", she said, seemingly without connection to what they had talked about earlier. "Yes, Christine told me.", Raoul replied. Meg was relieved that she didn´t have to tell him. "Somehow the situation with Erik reminded me of that. It was completely different, of course. Erik is the man I love, and Pierre… I wouldn´t even let him kiss my handbag if I could decide for myself. And still the feeling was the same, the feeling of how incredibly strong men are. What keeps them from doing whatever they want?"

By now Meg had turned away from Raoul, and he couldn´t fight the impression that she was more talking to herself that to him. She went on in a low voice: "This morning I happened to have the same wish as he. But what if one day I don´t feel like making love to him? Would he try to force me again?". Assuming she was finished Raoul said: "Meg, I want you to be honest with me: Are you afraid of him?".


	20. A simple life

**Author´s note:** Wow, we´ve actually arrived at chapter 20, and the story in nowhere near the end (not that I already knew what the end will be). Thanks for the reviews! They really keep me going.

**20) A simple life**

His words made Meg jump as if she had been beaten. She glared at him. What a stupid question! A gigantic "No!" was on the tip of her tongue… but somehow she couldn´t get it out. On the contrary, it slid back into her throat, making her cough. What was wrong with her? Why couldn´t she tell what she was feeling?

´Because you´re not sure what you´re feeling.´, the more rational part of her mind stated. The girl tried to recall the countless times Erik and she had met in the last three months. Had she never been afraid, not a single time, not even a little? The incident involving the raw meat came to her mind. She had been shocked when Erik had told her he had just killed a stagehand. She had reacted like that because murder was a despicable crime, but there had been more. For a fleeting moment she had wondered how much she actually knew about the man she was with.

´But I wasn´t scared.´, she assured herself stubbornly. This morning, however, she had been afraid, afraid of his strength, afraid of what he could do to her. It had been just this one moment that had changed so much. She wished she could simply forget it. But then, perhaps this would be exactly the wrong way. Meg had pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind far too long. She had to think it all over.

Raoul had followed the change of expressions on her face attentively. The moment he gave up expecting an answer he suddenly received it. "I don´t know.", Meg said. The single letters were like sharp pieces of glass in her mouth, hurting her more than she´d have believed possible. She felt like a traitor, trampling on Erik´s love.

She could still hear his parting words: _Just don´t forget that I love you._ Her heart was throbbing painfully, and she understood. She loved him as well. But… "I still love him. I just don´t know if I trust him.", she told Raoul. He nodded. "And he? Does he love you?", he asked quietly. This time Meg didn´t hesitate for as long as a second. "Yes, he loves me." Raoul had rarely got a reply spoken with more conviction.

"Talk to him.", he advised the girl. "Tell him about your worries. I´m certain everything will be fine as long as you love him and he loves you." There was something in his voice that startled Meg. Was it envy? "Is everything all right with Christine and you?", she wanted to know. Before yesterday she had had no idea that two were more than friends. They had gone out a few times, but that had been months ago. Meg asked herself why she hadn´t thought meeting them in the restaurant to be strange right away. Probably she had been too pleased to see them to question it.

"Oh yes, everything is fine.", the young man answered, each of his words dripping with sarcasm. "Why shouldn´t it be fine? She comes to me almost every night and we sleep with each other. Then she leaves again. The perfect relationship, isn´t it? No obligations, no further duties, no nothing. There´s just a tiny flaw: I love her! And for heaven´s sake, I want her to love me as well. But she doesn´t. In her eyes I´m only her… How does you lover express it so superbly? Her ´obedient servant´!"

Meg watched his outburst in surprise. All of a sudden the sensitive, understanding man was gone. Now he reminded her of the frightening pictures of volcanic eruptions she had once seen. "Raoul, I… I´m sorry.", she muttered, feeling very awkward. She didn´t know how to cope with him when he behaved like that. It made her slightly scared.

"Don´t you dare pity me!", he hissed. Imitating a high-pitched female voice he cried: "Look who´s coming! It´s poor Raoul. He loves a woman who´ll never love him, but he´s too much of a coward to tell her to leave. He prefers suffering day and night, the lovesick fool.". Then he returned to his normal voice and said: "Do you have any idea what I think about this situation? It´s a … it´s…". He sighed in frustration, silently cursing his good upbringing. He didn´t even know decent swearwords!

He threw a sideways glance at Meg to see if she´d try to say something… and froze. The girl was staring at him, her eyes full of anxiety. She was even trembling slightly. Raoul realised how much his unfriendly behaviour must have added to her fear of men. "Oh Meg, I´m so sorry.", he whispered. "I hurt your feelings and was too busy wallowing in self-pity to notice it."

"It wasn´t that bad.", she assured him. She was unwilling to think about whether every harsh word from a man she was exposed to would cause her to panic from now on. Eager to focus his attention back on his problem she asked: "Are you sure Christine doesn´t love you? Maybe she´s just too shy to say so explicitly.". "I wish I could believe that.", Raoul said. "But I know it´s not true. Christine loves another man. She has told me so over and over again. And even if she hadn´t done it – her eyes give it away. Every time we make love it´s him she sees, not me. It´s he who kisses her, he who caresses her. I´m so tired of all this…"

"Why don´t you tell her?", Meg asked, smiling slightly. The irony of repeating his own suggestion was not lost on her. "Perhaps you´re right.", Raoul muttered, jumping up from the bench. "Yes, that´s what I´ll do. Right now." He stretched out a hand and offered it to the girl. "I´ll take you to the opera. Surely your mother knows where Christine is. And you´ll talk to your beloved." Meg stood up without the help of his hand. She couldn´t help thinking that this conversation had been more useful for him than for herself.


	21. You must try to be brave

**21) You must try to be brave**

"Can´t you at least come with me?", Christine pleaded, clutching Mme.Giry´s hand as if her life depended on it. The older woman hated to see her like that, but she couldn´t help her. "I´m afraid it´s impossible.", she said. "There are lessons I have to give. I offered to have an additional rehearsal with Ariane to show her all the steps she´ll need in the new opera. It would be very suspicious if I cancelled it and simply disappeared, especially with Meg not being there as well."

The rational part of Christine´s mind understood it. Yet the other part wasn´t accessible to reason. She was frightened. There mere idea of going down to Erik´s home alone made her break into a sweat. What if Meg was indeed with him? The last time she had seen them kissing she had thrown up afterwards. And what if Meg was not with him? Christine couldn´t just turn on her heel and leave. She´d have to talk to him. But about which topic?

Seeing the anxiety on the girl´s face Mme.Giry said: "You´re only supposed to search for Meg. You´ll ask whether she´s there and go away again, with her or without her. No one expects you to tell him everything about your feelings… although it would be a good occasion, of course." The ballet teacher had to admit to herself that she wasn´t sending Christine down there without a reason that had nothing to do with her daughter. The girl had to speak openly with Erik sooner or later, or her own negative emotions would eat her up.

One last time Mme.Giry squeezed Christine´s hand reassuringly. Then she pulled her hand back. Giving her a kind smile she told her: "Always keep in mind that it´s your decision.". The girl heard the door close behind her and knew she was alone. Tentatively she made a few steps towards the hole usually covered by the mirror. The older woman had opened it minutes ago, and the room seemed to have grown colder and less comfortable since then. Christine took a deep breath and crossed the threshold.

The difference to the other corridors in the opera was striking. For once, this one was dark, much darker than anything Christine might have considered dark before. It was the sort of pitch-blackness that couldn´t be broken, not even by the sun itself. What was the tiny lantern in the girl´s hand to do against it? The little light it emitted was immediately swallowed by the enormous mouth of darkness.

The longer Christine´s journey lasted the more cautious her steps became. She lifted her feet high into the air, determined to make as little contact with the ground as possible. Surely it was terribly dirty and slimy, and once or twice she trod on something that broke under her foot, suspiciously sounding like the bones of a small animal. At least she knew now where the rats had come from yesterday.

A dreadful cold rose from the stone floor, effortlessly penetrating the soles of her shoes and the thin tights she wore. Soon her legs started growing numb and it became harder to move them. Christine wrapped the grey woollen scarf more firmly around her shoulders. She was glad that Mme.Giry had told her to take it with her. Still it was almost unbearably cold, and she could hardly keep herself from turning around and leaving again. Only the fact that she had promised it to her ballet teacher made her go on.

The girl wondered why she hadn´t noticed any of this the first time she had come down here with Meg´s mother and Raoul, though they had taken the same way. She had probably been too worried about her friend to pay attention to the path itself. She could remember everything that had happened: the resolution to go to Erik and talk to him about what he had done, the conversation with Raoul in which she had for the first time spoken out loud that she loved Erik. Then she had met Mme.Giry on the way back to the opera, and she had told her that Meg had vanished from her room, possibly trying to confront Erik with his actions. They had found Raoul at exactly the same place where he had been when Christine had left, and surprisingly he had agreed to come with them.

Christine wouldn´t have thought it possible that she´d return here one day, looking for Meg a second time. As she came closer to Erik´s home the option that her friend could be with him became more and more appealing. At least this would keep her desire to wrap her arms around his tall body and kiss him at bay. She knew this was impossible, no matter if Meg was there or not.

She sighed inwardly and closed her eyes for a moment. It had been so long since this one evening he had come to her for a singing lesson and actually shown himself. Christine still dreamed about it, though. In her fantasies he never left again. They kissed, and then he told her how much he- Her daydream ended abruptly as she stepped onto a slippery stone and stumbled. To her surprise it sunk into the floor. Which floor? Suddenly there was nothing but a big hole right in front of her. Christine desperately tried to remain on her feet, but gravity pulled her down mercilessly. She gave a soft cry as she fell… and fell… and crashed to the ground some ten feet below. The girl´s world dissolved around her.


	22. A dazzling place I never knew

**Author´s note:** Thanks for the reviews! It´s interesting to see how ´sympathetic´ you all are towards Christine. I´ve never quite understood such feelings towards a certain character. I´d be really grateful if someone could explain this to me.

**22) A dazzling place I never knew**

This time even his music couldn´t comfort Erik. No matter how hard he tried it his fingers didn´t dance over the keys with their usual easiness. He couldn´t sit here and play, knowing that he had made his beloved Meg miserable. He didn´t allow himself to relax under the influence of alcohol either. The glass standing on the table was only filled with water. Actually it was not important if it was water or the finest brandy; he hadn´t drunk a sip of it anyway yet.

He was pacing the length of his living room: twelve steps into one direction, turning around, twelve steps into the other direction. All the time he was thinking. Had there been signs in Meg´s behaviour he should have noticed? He couldn´t remember anything. She had always been so loving and caring and just as glad as he about the moments when they had the possibility of meeting.

Quickening his strides Erik asked himself whether he had done something wrong in their relationship. Again he didn´t come to a result. Because of his separation from the world he had developed his own rules of what a gentleman had to be like, that was true. Yet he was aware that they weren´t very different from those other men obeyed. They were just a little stricter. Erik would have never thought of taking another girl to bed, as it was almost normal in certain circles.

But of course this possibility had never arisen. Nobody wanted him… except Meg. What if he had lost her for good? At this point he nearly banged his head against the wall. Even the option of waking up hours later with a gigantic headache seemed to be better than having to stand his own thoughts.

If he had really done that, he might not have heard the noise. But he did, and his mind instantly snapped back to reality. Someone was there. For a second he thought it could be Meg, then he dismissed the idea as ridiculous. Both she and her mother know how to avoid the traps on the way to his home; he had shown them himself. This meant that there had to be an intruder.

Anger welled up inside Erik, mixed with just a drop of curiosity. He grabbed the hat, cloak and lantern he had thrown carelessly to the floor when he had arrived. He didn´t forget his Punjab Lasso either. If he found out that one of the ballet rats had sneaked down here, he´d make sure she had danced her last pirouette.

Quickly he left his house and started checking the rooms the person could be in. More than once he had listened to conversations about his legendary torture chamber. At such occasions a slight chuckle could be heard from the shadows, yet since people tended to pay attention to little but their own voices nobody had ever noticed it.

The truth was that Erik possessed more than a dozen chambers in which someone could end up. They weren´t torture chambers in the literal sense of the term. All of them had the same purpose: They detained people for a while till he chose to release them again. So far everybody had been too scared by having to stay in a dark and small room for hours to ever try to come back.

How could someone be stupid enough to assume it was possible to fall directly into the torture chamber? Contrary to popular belief torture was not one of the Opera Ghost´s favourite activities. He had long ago disabled the switch opening the trapdoor into his real torture chamber. He had done so after rescuing a very drunk rat catcher out of it the second time in one week. Since that day it had fallen into a deep slumber, and although he had thought about taking Meg there – maybe she´d have enjoyed the magnificent mirrors – he had never seriously considered it.

The person was in the third room, one that was quite close to his home. Peering through a crack Erik saw only a small body lying on the floor, covered by dark blue and grey fabric, not moving. He cursed under his breath. It wasn´t supposed to be like that. Normally people got out of there with nothing but a few bruises. This time, however, it seemed to be serious, which meant he had to help.

So he opened the hidden door silently and stepped inside. He held the lantern as far away from himself as possible. If the person woke up, he or she would probably pass out again from the shock of seeing the Opera Ghost. Moving closer Erik realised it had to be a girl. He could make out a skirt having ridden up to reveal large amounts of torn white tights. It was no chorus girl then. None of them wore clothes in such modest colours.

He knelt down next to the body. The heaving and sinking of the ribcage told him she was still alive. It occurred to him that he should fetch Mme.Giry to take care of her. But first he had to know who she was. She lay face down, her head covered by a scarf. Cautiously he removed it and turned the girl around a little, so that the upper part of her back was supported by his thighs.

Erik caught his breath, staring down at the last person he had expected to come to him. "Christine?", he muttered. Gently he placed a hand behind the back of her head. The other one pushed a few strands of hair out of her face. "Erik? Angel?", she asked in a hoarse whisper, not opening her eyes. "I´m with you.", he replied. She was able to talk, so her injuries couldn´t be serious, could they? But where did the blood on her head come from then? Softly he pressed his lips against her temple. Christine would have swooned with delight. But she had fainted again.


	23. Wandering free

**23) Wandering free**

Christine had never seen the room she woke up in. Yet she knew at once that it belonged to Meg. There was an elegant dressing table and a large wardrobe made of the same light wood, and the silken sheets of the bed she lay in were a pale blue. But what finally convinced her that it couldn´t possibly be Erik´s room was the mirror hanging over the dressing table.

She wasn´t sure how long she had slept, or rather been unconscious. She tried to sit up, but the moment she moved her head the world started spinning around her. With a groan she sank back onto the pillow. "Erik?", she called in a voice so faint that she was quite certain he hadn´t heard her. Christine was surprised that the door was pushed open almost immediately and the man she had asked for appeared. Obviously she had underestimated his hearing.

"Christine!", he said brightly. "How are you?" "I´m -" She stopped, reminding herself that it hadn´t been merely a polite phrase, but a real question. "I feel a bit dizzy and can´t move properly.", she muttered. "And – why don´t you come a little closer?" He was still standing at the door, and it was annoying that she wasn´t able to see him while she spoke.

He smiled shyly. "If you want me to…" She nodded, and he walked up to her, sitting down at the edge of the bed. Christine closed her eyes for a moment; the nodding had been too much movement for her head. The resulting dizziness was even increased as a wave of Erik´s very own scent hit her nostrils. How could someone who spent so much time in mouldy corridors smell this good?

Erik misinterpreted her reaction, thinking that the slight movement of him sitting down had made her feel sick. At the back of his mind a small voice told him that his presence probably made her sick, but he managed to suppress those worries. To distract himself he asked gently: "Can I get you something? Tea, maybe? I´m afraid there´s not much food I could offer you.". Erik´s eating habits were rather different from other people´s, and at the moment his supplies were nearly used up. He´d have to send Mme.Giry to purchase a larger variety of food.

"I´m not hungry.", the girl informed him. "But it would be very friendly if you had a glass of water." Her mouth was terribly dry, partly due to the fact that he was only inches away from her. "Of course.", he mumbled. This was at least something she could be given instantly. A tray with a jug and two glasses stood right next to him on the bedside table. Within moments he had one of them filled. Clumsily he seized Christine around the middle and helped her sit up. She winced slightly about the rough treatment, but didn´t complain. After all, he was doing his best. He brought the glass to her lips and let her drink.

When it was half empty he put it back on the table. Christine smiled faintly. She did feel a little better. At once Erik fetched two more pillows, so that she could remain in an upright position without him holding her. It was only when he accidentally brushed over the blanket, making it slip from her legs, that she noticed something else. "What´s _that_, Erik?", she wanted to know, looking down at herself. A snow white bandage was wrapped around the lower part of her right leg.

"Your ankle is sprained.", he replied. "At least that´s what I´d say." "You made this bandage?" He nodded. "First I applied a salve made of herbs. It should lessen the swelling. And there was something against the pain in the water." Christine couldn´t help being impressed. Erik seemed to have far more talents that just for music. "Where did you learn such things?", she asked curiously. "Among the gypsies I travelled with was an old woman who showed me some tricks.", he explained. "It´s very useful. I mean, I cannot simply go to a doctor…"

"I see.", the girl said. After a moment she went on: "I´m sorry for all the trouble I caused you. When I came here I certainly didn´t want to end up in your bed.". ´Well, at least not immediately.´, she added in her mind. "I only wanted to find out if Meg was with you. She didn´t show up at the ballet lesson this morning." "No, she hasn´t been here since the day before yesterday.", Erik told her. He looked at her in alarm. "Why? Do you think something´s wrong with her?" Dreadful pictures appeared in his head: Meg standing at a railway station, buying a ticket that would enable her to get as far away from him as possible.

Christine shrugged, noticing with relief that the movement was far less painful that the nodding before. "I don´t know. It´s unusual for Meg not to attend a lesson." Knowing Meg´s sense of duty he was even more worried than before. "Is her mother looking for her as well?" "No, but Raoul is. I´m sure he´ll find her. Mme.Giry told him where to go." Erik didn´t look convinced. He didn´t harbour the most positive feelings for the Vicomte. He could tell himself over and over that those feelings came from the time when he had suspected the younger man of taking Christine away from him, and still they wouldn´t disappear.

"I have to search for her myself.", he announced. He was about to stand up when the injured girl came to his mind. "I can´t go and leave you here alone.", he said. "But I could come with you.", Christine suggested. "If you gave me a walking stick…" Erik shook his head and pushed her down with gentle pressure. "You musn´t move your leg for the next two days or the ankle could remain stiff." "What?", she exclaimed. "Are you trying to tell me I have to stay here for the next two days?"

**Author´s note:** Yes, I know what you´re thinking. Have a little trust in your Jenny Wren, all right? I didn´t take so much time to build up the relationship of Meg and Erik to ruin everything just like that.


	24. Trust your heart

**24) Trust your heart**

„Well... yes.", Erik muttered uneasily. "I´ve seen a similar case when I lived with the gypsies. It was a small boy who fell from a tree. His mother underestimated how serious the injury was and let him play outside too soon. He was never able to move his leg as before." Seeing the expression of pure horror on Christine´s face he seized her hand and squeezed it in what he hoped was a reassuring way.

Little did he know that there were other things tormenting the girl´s mind. Of course she was worried about the possibility that she mightn´t use her leg again. But what was this compared to the prospect of spending two days with the man whom she loved and who didn´t love her? What if Meg came to visit him? It occurred to her that this probably was the very bed in which they usually lay next to each other, in which they _made love_. The thought made her stomach turn, and she started trembling.

"It´s all right.", Erik said soothingly. "It´s not very likely that this will happen to you. I´ve put on the bandage soon enough and I´ll care for you till you´re better." At these words the trembling grew stronger. "Oh…", he made as comprehension dawned on him. "I see. You are frightened by the idea of spending so much time with someone like me." He briefly indicated his mask.

He also wanted to pull back his other hand, yet Christine didn´t let him. Holding it in a firm grip she said: "Forgive me my honesty, but that´s utter nonsense. I didn´t withdraw from you when I found out about your mask in the first place, so why should I do it now?". "You did withdraw from me.", he corrected her. "Not directly afterwards, but some time later, when Meg and I became a couple."

The girl looked at him, her eyes wide. He was right, and she had no idea what excuse she could come up with. Yet it turned out that he had already found another explanation. "Is my new mask bothering you?", he asked quietly. "Well, maybe a little.", she replied truthfully. She had quite liked the left side of his face. It had been a handsome sight. With his new mask he looked slightly frightening, almost like a grotesque puppet.

"Why do you wear this?", she wanted to know. "Was the old one broken or didn´t you like it anymore?" Slowly she reached up and brushed over his cheek with her index finger. The material was cold, so different from her skin. Now it was Erik´s turn to tremble. A sigh escaped his lips, making her shudder as well.

"Can´t you take it off for a moment?", Christine whispered. "I just want to see you properly." "Only if you tell me the true reason why you´ve been avoiding me.", he said instantly. She nodded. It seemed to be a fair bargain for both of them. She swallowed hard, trying to get over with it quickly. "I… I…", she mumbled. Her stammering was interrupted by a knock at the entrance door. Christine and Erik looked at each other in surprise. Finally he stood up, his hand slipping out of hers. The moment had passed.

He left the room and walked the few steps to the door. Opening it he saw a very unlikely visitor. Outside stood the Vicomte, holding not one, but two lanterns in his hands and looking like a wealthy version of a street seller. "I apologise for coming to your home uninvited.", he said with a little smile, which Erik didn´t return. "Yet I have reason to believe that Mlle.Christine Daaé is with you. Mme.Giry told me so, and on the way I stumbled over a lantern that could belong to her."

"Yes, she´s here.", Erik admitted. "Do you want to come in?" Reluctantly he stepped aside, creating enough space for the other man to go through. He could have thought of a thousand better things than having the Vicomte in his house, but all the same he knew it was impossible to avoid a situation like that. Raoul seized his chance and entered before Erik closed the door behind him with a determined snap, nearly jamming his guest´s coat.

It wasn´t difficult to find the room in which Christine was; the door was open and there was light. Raoul saw her lying in bed and rushed to her side immediately. "Where´s Meg?", she asked, almost at the same time as Erik, who once more stood at the doorframe. "She had to remain up there.", he answered, gesturing vaguely at the ceiling. "You don´t have to worry, though – she´s fine. But when we met her mother she was with this new member of the chorus… Ariane. She insisted on Meg staying, so that Mme.Giry could do a lesson with both of them. Ariane said something about how much she could learn from Meg."

When he thought he had given them enough explanation he asked suspiciously: "Why are you lying there?". For a second he wondered if she had managed to seduce Erik, yet as far as he could see she was fully dressed. Besides, she didn´t look happy, only anxious and slightly annoyed.

"Mlle.Daaé sprained her ankle on the way here.", Erik told him. "To make sure the injury can heal properly she won´t leave this bed for the next two days." Mentally he prepared himself for an angry outburst, but nothing like that happened. Raoul merely leaned closer to Christine, whispering: "I´ll need some time to think about us anyway. There are certain things I´ve understood today.".

He placed a soft kiss on her forehead and went on: "This is your chance. Do tell him! Good luck!". Nodding briefly in Erik´s direction her went out. It was only when he had walked for several minutes that he allowed a single tear to run down his smooth cheek. He felt as if he had just lost Christine.


	25. Let fate decide

**Author´s note:** Thanks for all the nice reviews. I´m glad you seem to enjoy my story. _Elflover 47:_ You´re absolutely right. I can assure you they will talk before long. _Olivia:_ I´m sure you had a great time watching Hugh´s last time as Phantom. But it´s also good to see that you´re back here. And about Christine not deserving Erik´s love: Everybody deserves to be loved. I don´t think one can blame her for not being able to decide until the very end. She´s still very young, and there are so many people trying to drag her into different directions.

**25) Let fate decide**

When Raoul re-appeared in Christine´s dressing room his heart was as heavy as a stone. His journey to Erik´s world, short as it had been, had managed to rip any delusion he might have had out of his head. The girl he had loved since their childhood wouldn´t just wake up one day and notice that she loved him. She loved Erik, and even if she´d never end up being with him, this wasn´t likely to change. Raoul knew he had told Meg he´d talk to Christine, but it hadn´t been the right moment. Perhaps the right moment wouldn´t ever come.

He felt like slamming the mirror shut, yet hearing voices just outside the door he decided it would be wiser not to do so. He closed the entrance with as little sound as possible and approached the door. It wasn´t like him to eavesdrop on conversations. But in this case it was different; he had to find out who was there before he could leave.

Fortunately the people were talking loudly enough. "You cannot go in there, Ariane.", a soft female voice said. Raoul immediately recognised it as Meg´s. After all, he had spoken to her only a short while ago. "I have no idea what you hope to find anyway; it´s only an ordinary dressing room." "I want to see the mirror.", the other girl replied firmly. "Jacqueline and Marie told me it´s most beautiful. It was a present from an English count, wasn´t it?"

Meg tried hard not to flinch. She should have expected something like that to happen sooner or later. Every new chorus girl was exposed to this story; only the English count was sometimes changed into a sultan from India or a French duke. It was an easy way of checking how naïve a new ballet rat was. Most of them fell for it and could be seen sneaking into Christine´s room not too long afterwards and being thrown out at once by a furious Mme.Giry. No member of the chorus except Christine and Meg knew the reason for the ballet teacher´s anger at such occasions; they just enjoyed laughing. According to another rumour the mirror had in fact been given to her by an old flame, which made her fiercely protective of it. Of course Meg hadn´t corrected this assumption.

Today, however, this usually harmless prank could have serious consequences. What if they entered the room in the exact moment Raoul came out of the secret passageway? But before Meg made another attempt to get Ariane away from the door it opened and Raoul emerged. "Good day, mesdemoiselles.", he greeted them with a friendly smile. "Good day.", they echoed.

Sensing that it was better if she asked the question Meg said: "I´m a little surprised to see you here, M. le Vicomte. What have you done in Mlle.Daaé´s dressing room?". Raoul´s smile widened. He had expected this question. "Actually this is none of your business, Mlle.Giry. But since you insist on knowing everything: I donated quite a large sum of money last month, and today the managers informed me that they used it to purchase new wardrobes for some rooms. Of course I wanted to have a look at one of them."

Raoul hoped the story had he hastily thought up was credible enough to convince Ariane. He also hoped Meg didn´t mind that he had been a bit harsh to her. The other girl didn´t have to know how closely they were acquainted. "Then I guess Mlle.Daaé is not in there at the moment.", Meg said, wondering why he hadn´t brought her back with him. "I met her and she told me she was on the way to her singing teacher.", Raoul replied. Surely Meg would understand the meaning of his sentence.

Hopefully the girl didn´t look as puzzled as she was. Christine had stayed with Erik, that much was certain. Yet somehow she couldn´t imagine that her friend was really taking a singing lesson. She hadn´t done so in months, so why should she start it again all of a sudden? And come to think of it: Why wasn´t Erik here? Wasn´t he upset about Meg´s disappearance and wanted to find out if she was well?

The young man could almost read the unasked questions in her eyes and threw Ariane a quick glance. But she didn´t seem to notice the other girl´s distress at all. Instead she was looking at him. "I don´t think we´ve been introduced to each other properly yet, M le Vicomte.", she said. "My name is Ariane Hérder." Raoul took her hand and kissed it. She giggled softly and batted her long eyelashes.

It was in this moment that he chose an option that would have been unthinkable two hours ago: He´d do what Christine had done with him. She had decided that she no longer needed him, so he´d make sure he didn´t need her either. Ariane was quite pretty and she seemed to like him. His brother had more than once told him these were the only things necessary for a mistress. He let his gaze travel down her body and up again. Then he had decided that she´d be perfectly capable of caring for his physical needs. And for the emotional ones… well, he´d better not think about this aspect now.

"I´ve already heard of you, Mlle.Hérder.", he said, recalling everything Meg had told him. "Your reputation exceeds the city limits of Marseille by far. You were the prima ballerina there, weren´t you?" "Oh yes.", she replied. "But here I´m just one of many talented dancers." "Well, you´re certainly the most beautiful.", Raoul lied, feeling a tiny twinge of guilt. The girl´s cheeks flushed, and she muttered a "Thank you!". "I believe there´s still a little time till the afternoon rehearsals begin. Wouldn´t you like to spend it with me? You could tell me more about Marseille.", he suggested, and she nodded eagerly. They made their way down the corridor without as much as a backward glance at Meg, who stood rooted to the spot, asking herself what on earth was going on.


	26. To guide these lives we see

**Author´s note:** I got so many reviews lately that I felt the need to say "Thank you!" again. It´s a great motivation for me. You guys are amazing. _Beata-beatrix: _You want to kill me in case the story turnes out to be E/C? Well, join the club! There are so many others who´d do the same. You´re right, by the way: Leroux - Erik and fluff don´t go too well together.

**26) To guide these lives we see**

A few hours later the last rehearsal was over. Again Raoul sat in the auditorium. But this time he didn´t wait for Christine. Ariane and he would go for a walk as soon as she was finished changing. He was looking forward to this meeting. The little while they had spent together had been quite enjoyable. Admittedly she had talked a bit too much, but he blamed her nervousness for it. Surely he´d be able to get a word in between every now and then if he tried hard enough.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder he looked up, the most charming smile he had to offer on his lips. Yet it wasn´t the girl he had expected. Meg was staring down at him, the expression on her face full of concern. "Why is Christine still with Erik?", she asked. She had been aching to get the answer for hours, so it was quite difficult for her to keep her voice down. But since there were no people around anymore, it didn´t matter that she didn´t quite manage to do so.

It took Raoul a moment to push his mind from the light conversation he had planned to the prospect of serious questioning. "Calm down, Meg.", he said, patting her hand slightly. "Christine just sprained her ankle on the way down. You know how dark these passageways are. Well, your beloved suggested that she should stay where she is for the next two days."

"What?", Meg cried. "Could you repeat that, please? I thought I heard you say she has to stay with him." "This has nothing to do with what happened between the two of us.", Raoul assured her. "He doesn´t want her injury to get worse, that´s all. Go and ask him! I´m sure he´ll tell you the same." The girl nodded, a little embarrassed. She had no idea why she had been this irrational. After all, it was not as if Christine was in love with Erik.

Having got her answer Meg was about to turn around when something else came to her mind. "What are you doing with Ariane all of a sudden?" "Erm… well…", he muttered. He didn´t know how to explain his sudden change of mind without talking about her best friend´s feelings for Erik. So he remained silent, hoping Meg would sense his discomfort and bring the conversation to a different subject. But he wasn´t that lucky. "Merely hours ago you told me how much you loved Christine, and the moment she´s not here you begin to look for a replacement. Are you sure you didn´t make this decision with a part of your body only loosely connected to your brain?"

She glanced at him sternly, and Raoul was startled by the resemblance to her mother. The arrival of Ariane saved him from making up an answer. "I´m ready to go.", she announced, beaming at Raoul. Shrugging off Meg´s hand he said: "We can leave immediately. Mlle.Giry and I were talking about nothing important anyway, were we?". "That´s right, M. le Vicomte.", she said stiffly. "If you could excuse me now – I have another appointment." "Good bye, Meg!", the other girl called cheerfully as Meg walked away. Raoul stood up and offered Ariane his arm. Together they went out of the auditorium.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Three visitors on one day! Erik started wondering why so many people suddenly felt the urge to come here. As he opened the door he found himself face to face with the only person who did visit him more or less frequently. "Meg, my love!", he exclaimed. He wanted to wrap his arms around the blond girl, but stopped in mid-movement, remembering last night´s events. His joy about seeing her evaporated. They stood in front of each other rather awkwardly. "I´m sorry.", she whispered, though she didn´t know herself what exactly she was sorry for. "I should have been here earlier, but there was not enough time."

"I´m glad you´ve come.", he said simply. She was standing at his door, even though they were practically alone. Surely this was a sign that she trusted him. Her next words, however, showed him that it wasn´t that easy. "I´ve heard about Christine´s injury.", she told him. "That´s the reason why I´m here." When she noticed the slightly hurt expression on his face she hastily corrected herself: "Well, part of the reason.". She gave him a tentative smile.

The girl held up a small suitcase made of dark brown leather. "I´ve brought her a few clothes and other things she might need.", she explained. He beamed at her. She was such a good friend to Christine, overcoming her fear of him for her sake. He had thought about going to Christine´s dressing room and getting some of her belongings himself, but since he only had a vague idea of what a woman needed every day he was glad that Meg had taken over this task. "I´m sure she´ll appreciate your effort."

"May I give it to her? I promise I won´t stay long.", she said. Yet Erik shook his head. "She fell asleep moments after the Vicomte was gone. The medication against the pain made her very sleepy." "I see.", Meg muttered, handing him the suitcase. "Then I´ll better go." Knowing that Christine wasn´t awake and could come to her help she felt even more uncomfortable in his presence.

He was about to seize her hand to hold her back, but didn´t do it, in case she wouldn´t like it. "Meg, please come in! We have to talk.", he pleaded. The girl´s gaze wandered nervously from Erik to the path that would lead her away and back. She didn´t have to answer, though, for in this moment a huge yawn shook her body. For the first time Erik noticed the dark circles under her eyes and instantly felt guilty. It was because of him that she hadn´t been able to sleep. "Go to bed, princess!", he said lovingly. "We can still talk tomorrow… if you want to, that is." "Yes.", she whispered. "Thank you." She reached up and squeezed his shoulder affectionately, a gesture that surprised both of them. Then she left. He looked after her, absent-mindedly massaging the spot where she had touched him.


	27. Though I might wish with all my might

**27) Though I might wish with all my might**

Maybe he should have insisted that she stayed with him. Standing at the door she had looked like a child, in need of someone to guide her. Why had he let her go? He was feeling so very lonely in the solitude of his bedroom. Closing his eyes tightly he imagined having her in his arms, kissing her long hair. His lips trailed down her neck, which was so elegant when she danced, over her shoulder and to her-

Suddenly Christine´s picture pushed itself into his mind. She seemed to watch him, to mock him with an ironic smile. He could almost hear her say: ´Why should you love her when you can also have me? You only took her because I was out of sight.´. And she was right. He loved Christine. In fact, he had never stopped loving her, not even for a second. But since she didn´t want him, he had to decide for something else. Ariane wasn´t such a bad option. ´After all´, Raoul thought, rolling over in his bed. ´I´m much too young to live in celibacy.´

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

Having been very tired Meg had gone to bed at least two hours earlier than usual. At first she had slept soundly, but now, in the middle of the night, she was wide awake. Even with a candle lit the room was very dark. The girl was afraid of staring at the shadows, half-expecting someone to jump out of them. Yet she was equally afraid of falling asleep again.

Had the dreadful experience with Pierre caused her nightmares or would they have started sooner or later anyway? This one question raced through her head. There was no one who could help her find an answer. Going to Erik was impossible for several reasons. He was deeply involved in her problem himself. Besides, he didn´t know about Pierre´s assault, and Meg didn´t plan to ever tell him. Christine was not available, and Raoul… he was probably just ruining Ariane´s reputation in some bed.

The thought made her inhale sharply. Was her reputation ruined as well because she had let Erik make love to her? ´Of course not.´, she answered bitterly. ´Nobody knows about us. It´s as if our relationship didn´t exist. To the world I´m Meg Giry, the lucky girl who is courted by Pierre Devoiraux.´ ´At least Pierre is open about what he wants from you.´, a nasty voice in her head hissed.

Meg threw the blanket aside and got up quickly. She couldn´t bear being alone for as long as another minute; the pondering would make her go insane. She put on her dressing gown and wrapped it around her tightly. Then she took the candlestick from the table. She opened the door and crossed the corridor as quickly and quietly as possible. After just a few moments she entered her mother´s bedroom.

As she didn´t want to wake her up she blew out the candle. Fortunately she could find the way to the large armchair even in the dark. She sat down on it and curled up into a ball. Meg positively sank into the softness of the chair. Listening to her mother´s breathing she was finally able to drift off to sleep.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

There were few things as peaceful as watching another person sleep. Erik had rarely had this pleasure, and he quite enjoyed it. At first he had been a little angry because Christine´s presence kept him from playing the organ, which was his favourite activity at night. He had already reached his normal amount of sleep of a few hours. So what else remained for him to do?

He had pulled a chair closer to Christine´s bed and settled down on it. Even though it was dark he could see her face almost as clearly as at day-time. Her lips parted slightly, and a small sigh escaped them. A moment later the corners of her mouth twitched. It looked as if she was smiling. ´At least she´s not dreaming about me then.´, Erik thought. ´It appears that all I can bring people is a lot of nightmares. It´s a miracle that she can sleep at all, knowing I´m nearby.´

But sleep she could; she even was still smiling. It occurred to him that one day this girl would make a man very happy. Or was she maybe already doing that? Erik had seen the Vicomte and her together at the opera, though none of them had been aware of it. They hadn´t made an especially happy impression. It had been almost ridiculous how the young man had tried to draw her attention to him with affectionate gestures and little presents while Christine had hardly noticed that her was there.

If he had only had these facts, Erik would have doubted that they were a couple. Yet something he had overheard a while ago made him question this statement. He hadn´t thought about it for weeks, but watching Christine sleep it came to his mind again. Erik had happened to be in the opera stables when one of the coachmen had fetched a bucket of water for his horse and met a stagehand. In the beginning Erik hadn´t listened to their pointless talk, but Christine´s name had caught his attention. ´Every other night Mlle.Daaé comes to my coach in the evening. It´s always the de Chagny estate she wants to be brought to. I bet Nero could find the way there without my help by now.´

Erik had inched closer, which was good for the coachman´s voice had dropped to a whisper when continuing: ´Once the girl forgot her handbag on the seat, so I went after her to give it back to her. They hadn´t locked the door properly; I could just walk in. And there they were in the corridor, Christine and the Vicomte – right in the middle of… you know. Well, all I can say is that our little prima donna had quite a nice body…" The men had roared with laughter while Erik had been beside himself with rage. How had they dared speak about his student in such a disgusting way?

Only the thought that Meg wouldn´t approve of him becoming a murderer had saved the men´s necks – literally. The next day, however, both of them had been dismissed. Money stolen from several dressing rooms had been found in their pockets. They had sworn that they had never seen, let alone taken it, but nobody had believed them. Erik had been pleased that his non-violent method had worked well.

He still had no idea whether the story the coachman had told was true. It was a topic that had to be approached carefully. He couldn´t just ask Christine if she frequently made love to the Vicomte on the floors of corridors. Since he hadn´t seen her face to face for months at that time, it wouldn´t have been possible anyway, even if he had been bold enough.

But now Christine was here. There was no reason not to bring up the subject sometime. He wanted her to lead a content life. If this included the kind of activity he had heard of, he wouldn´t mind. Erik just had to advise her to be a little more discreet with it. No one cared about the chorus girls having dozens of admirers. But Christine was an important singer. She couldn´t afford such a behaviour. He shook his head as he pulled the blanket over an arm that refused to lie under it. The rules of society matter very little to him. He just wanted his student to be happy.


	28. Something in him that I simply

**Author´s note:** There are a few things I need for a day to start well.Going to my e-mail account and seeing lots of lovely reviews is certainly one of them. Thanks to all of you! _PhantomLover05:_ You´re so right about that. _Beata-beatrix: _Thank you for indirectly mentioning me! I´d have never thought you meant my story. And of course Raoul loves Christine. If he only liked her body, he´d be perfectly happy with the ´relationship´ they have at the moment. Oh, one more thing: This chapter features Erikalus (That´s my personal name for dark Erik. By the way: Who can tell me where it comes from?).It´s nothing too drastic, but I thought you might want to know.

**28) S****omething in him that I simply didn´t see**

Christine woke up as a divine scent entered her nostrils. She opened her eyes quickly and saw Erik, who was just coming in. In his hands he carried a large silver tray. "Ah, you´ve woken up at last.", he said. "At last? How late is it?", she muttered with a little yawn. She turned her head to look out of the window, yet could make out nothing but darkness. It was slightly unnerving.

"It´s past eleven.", Erik replied. "But since you don´t have any appointments today it doesn´t matter. All you have to do at the moment is enjoying your breakfast." With these words he lowered the tray. Christine stared at it in disbelief. There were delicious looking crepes, different sorts of bread, butter and a number of small jars probably containing jam and honey. A bowl was filled with an assortment of fruit, already peeled and sliced. A teapot completed the picture.

"This is amazing, Erik.", she exclaimed. "I´ve never got a meal like that. Did you prepare all this yourself?" He chuckled softly as he helped her sit up once more. "I bought it myself.", he answered. "There is a restaurant not too far away where I get food when I dine with Meg down here." Noticing that Christine´s cheeks had flushed he assured her: "Don´t worry about my expense; I certainly won´t ask you to give anything back to me. You know I have more than enough money, and you need decent nourishment.".

Forcing the thought of Meg and Erik having a romantic dinner out of her mind the girl wanted to know: "Do the managers still pay you?". She remembered that he had once told her about it. "Of course they do.", he replied a little indignantly. "After all, it´s my opera. I certainly don´t run around and steal money like a common thief… How do you drink you tea? With milk and a drop of lemon juice? Or with cream? Honey? Sugar?". He indicated the place of each thing on the tray while filling two cups.

For a moment Christine was completely overwhelmed by this enumeration. "I think I´ll take cream.", she eventually decided. Reaching for the tiny glass jug she noticed that it was decorated with strange letters she couldn´t read, just like the rest of the tea service. "Did you get all this with the food?", she asked curiously, pouring a little bit of the white liquid into the cup Erik handed her.

"Actually this is my own.", he remarked, putting the other cup on the bedside table. "I wasn´t truthful when saying I had bought the entire breakfast. I made the tea myself. Honestly I was afraid you might not drink it if you knew I made it." His good mood was gone as he thought of Meg and how often they had drunk out of the very same cups. Why should Christine trust him when even the girl he loved didn´t do it? Frowning his guest looked at him, forgetting to stir her tea. He had sounded so very serious. "What?", she muttered. "Did you assume I thought you planned to poison me, so shortly after saving me?"

She leaned across the tray and patted his shoulder softly. Erik, however, jumped as if she had hit him, uttering a small cry. "Don´t…!" Accidentally she had touched the same spot as Meg the last evening, adding to his pain. "I´m sorry.", she said hastily, wondering what had caused this change in his behaviour. The girl placed her cup back onto the tray. Suddenly the breakfast didn´t look appealing anymore.

"It´s… nothing.", he mumbled. Yet Christine had already seen the tears in his eyes. Quickly she pushed the tray to the unoccupied half of the bed and seized his hands. "Erik.", she said quietly. "You call tell me it´s none of my business. You can tell me I´m a stupid child and wouldn´t understand your problems anyway. But don´t lie to me."

"Meg… she… doesn´t love me anymore.", he exclaimed, his voice breaking. Christine should have been triumphant, but just the contrary was the case. She hadn´t often seen someone that miserable and she wanted to make him feel better. "I´m sure she loves you.", she whispered, not knowing if the lump in her throat was caused by pity for him or herself. Erik shook his head. "How can she? She´s still afraid of me because of what I… almost did to her a few months ago.", he stammered. "Last night I visited her. She had had nightmares, and I tried to comfort her… till it turned out that she had dreamed about me! I wasn´t even allowed to touch her."

"But love-", she began, yet Erik cut her short. "Love, love! What do you know about love?", he shouted, tears spilling hotly down his deformed cheeks, naturally unnoticed by the girl in front of him. Suddenly feeling fear herself she tried to pull her hands back, but he held onto them. "You´ll listen to me now! I´ll tell you a nice story about your life. You have your handsome Vicomte. He´ll always love you, even though you treat him like dirt. He´ll always be there, whether to give you an expensive necklace or to satisfy your needs on some floor in front of a coachman!"

With each sentence he gripped her wrists more tightly, making her gasp for breath. By now she was crying as well, silent tears of shame. Erik didn´t care. He wanted to hurt her, to hurt _someone_. Maybe this big black hole in his chest would grow a bit smaller. "You´re so superficial, Christine.", he accused her. "All you care about is beauty. I bet the boy has already found you a handsome teacher after you had complained about the old one´s ugly mask. He´s probably teaching you other things as well, perhaps even in the presence of the Vicomte. I guess he enjoys watching as much as being watched!"

"Erik… How can you say such things?", she asked in a terrified whisper. "None of that is true. I thought you were my friend." "Your friend?", he repeated, his voice dangerously calm. At last he released her hands, but Christine, sensing that something terrible was about to happen, shrank back into the pillows. "Then I suggest you… look at your friend properly!", he suddenly yelled. With one quick movement he ripped the mask from his face. "Could you imagine feeling friendship or even love for this?"

Christine´s mouth opened, but no sound came out. She was too shocked by what she saw. Erik´s skin was red and raw. There were lots of ugly scars on one side and twisted flesh on the other. Yet for the girl the worst sight were his eyes, big and tear-filled and unbelievably sad. In this moment she realised two things: Although he had just humiliated her like no one else before, she´d never be able to hate him. And even though his question seemingly was the perfect background for her confession, she couldn´t bother him with it now. He was in desperate need of a friend, not a second lover.

"Yes.", she replied, moving a little forwards again. She wasn´t frightened anymore. "I could imagine that very well.", she said almost solemnly. Then she pulled his shaking body into an embrace. This tenderness was too much for Erik. Sobbing he buried his face at her shoulder. "I didn´t mean to say all that.", he murmured into the fabric of her dress. "This thing with Meg… is driving me insane." "Shh… don´t talk about it now.", she said soothingly. Neither of them knew how long they had sat like that when a girl´s voice made both of them jump slightly. "So you´ve already found someone else.", Meg stated.


	29. You keep on denying

**29) You keep on denying…**

"Meg!", the two people on the bed cried. The shock froze their movements for some moments. This was enough for Meg to turn on her heel and leave as quickly as her feet would carry her. When Erik had recovered a little and ran after her she was already on her way around the lake. Since his legs were longer than hers it was only a matter of one or two minutes till he had caught up with her.

The girl, however, didn´t even think about stopping. "Meg… please…", he said, panting slightly. He seized her upper arm to at least slow her down. And indeed Meg came to a halt. She turned her head in his direction abruptly and exclaimed: "How dare you touch me with those fingers that just caressed Christine´s back?". She wound out of his grip and broke into a run.

Surprised by her sudden reaction Erik lost his balance and crashed to the ground, where he lay motionless for a moment. When he finally managed to stand up again, every bone in his body aching, he couldn´t see her anymore. Going after her at a much slower pace than before he congratulated himself for having never shown Meg the other exists out of his world. At least he knew where she would end up.

When he emerged from behind the mirror he found that Meg was just about to leave the room. So she hadn´t been far away from him the entire time. Erik wasn´t very astonished. The passageways had countless twists and turnings; it was easy to overlook someone in there. "Please stay!", he begged her. "It was not what it looked like." "So Christine and you did not embrace?", she asked with an ironic smile. He sighed. "Yes, but…"

"I´d have never thought you´d sink that low. I told you I needed a little while alone, and you sweetened the time you had to wait by taking my best friend, a girl who´s lying in bed, completely at your mercy.", she said, her gaze boring into his skin like needles. "I didn´t ´take´ her. She was just trying to comfort me.", he explained quickly, hoping it didn´t sound as pathetic in her ears as in his.

"Comfort you?" Meg gave a bitter laugh. "Next time you´ll tell me you stumbled and landed in her arms. Or maybe I didn´t see correctly – it was just a trick of the light, wasn´t it? Come on, Erik! Surely the legendary Opera Ghost can make up a better excuse." "I know what people say about me, that I could trick anyone into believing my stories.", he told her calmly. "But you can trust me. It might sound strange, but it´s the truth."

It took him a lot of courage to walk the few steps towards her. He suppressed a grown of pain while continuing: "You mustn´t listen to what the ballet rats tell you. They regard me as a myth. But with you I only want to be a normal man.". Meg looked at him for a long moment. "You want to be a normal man? There´s one thing you must to do make me believe you." "Everything.", he said instantly.

At once the girl flung open the door. "Then come with me!", she demanded. "Take a walk with me in the light! I just… I don´t know if I can trust a man who always lurks in the shadows. You´ve never even said that you loved me in the presence of someone else." Her voice, which had sounded so self-confident at the beginning, was now barely more than a plea. "Come with me to the stage and say it. Please…"

Erik listened to her in an almost awed silence. This was no longer about Christine and him. The way she spoke told him she had thought about this topic before, maybe since last night. Well, if she insisted on him declaring his love for her in front of witnesses, it could be done. Only few would be there anyway at this time of day. And he could disappear after just a moment. Yes, it was possible. The worst thing that could happen were one or two women fainting when seeing his mask, but this wasn´t as important as making this longing vanish from Meg´s voice.

He reached up to check whether his mask was in place. Yet to his horror his fingertips touched his bare flesh. Running after Meg he had forgotten the mask in his home where he had pulled it off. "I can´t… not without…", he whispered. He had taken neither cloak nor fedora with him; there was nothing to cover his face with.

"And you´re still talking about being a normal man?" The ironic undertone had returned to her voice. It was this that made Erik lose his temper. "All right – I´m not normal!", he shouted. "But you´ve known that from the start. If you want an ordinary man, I suggest you take that idiot Pierre!" "Maybe I´ll do that!", Meg cried.

By now Erik was seething with rage. At the back of his mind there was still a little voice telling him to stop, but he didn´t listen to it. "Fine!", he yelled. "But don´t think you could come crawling back to me the first time he beats you up or you find him in bed with another girl!" "Well, thanks to you I already have some experience in that area.", Meg said cynically. Without looking back at him she stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut behind her.

Meg´s dressing room was right next to Christine´s. She had barely entered it when her anger turned into sadness. Leaning her forehead against the cool wood of the door she felt the first tears gliding down her face, and before long she was sobbing. Why had everything gone so terribly wrong? Carlotta was practicing at the moment, her voice sounding through the corridors. If the diva hadn´t sung this loudly, Meg would have been able to hear that Erik was crying as well.


	30. who you are and how you´re feeling

**Author´s note:** This is an addition to my **Disclaimer**: I do not own the fairytale "The steadfast tin soldier" (also known as "The brave/courageous tin soldier"). It belongs to Hans Christian Andersen. The lyrics of the song Erik sings, however, belong to me.

**30) ... who you are and how you´re feeling**

By the time Erik returned to his house he had re-gained his composure. Why kind of impression would Christine get of him if she saw him crying like a little boy twice within such a short space of time? His plan for the next hours included apologising once more for all the insults he had showered his guest with, encourage her to eat something and then lock himself up in his room to brood over what he had done wrong.

Yet to his astonishment he didn´t find Christine in bed, but on the floor next to it, thrashing her arms around wildly. "Thank goodness you´re back!", she exclaimed, a faint smile coming to her face. "I wanted to go after the two of you, completely forgetting that I couldn´t. And as I fell I didn´t dare get up again.", she told him miserably. Erik quickly grabbed his mask from the floor and put it on again. Only then did he wrap his arms around her waist and pull her into a standing position.

Christine´s smile widened as she realised that her ankle didn´t hurt as long as she didn´t put much weight on it. "Do you wish to lie down or sit on a chair?", Erik asked, still supporting her. "Can´t you take me somewhere else? I´ve been in here for almost a day. As nice as this room is, staring at the ceiling all the time is getting on my nerves.", she admitted.

Having thought about it for a moment Erik abandoned his previous plan and suggested: "Why don´t you come with me to the living room? I could sing for you.". The girl nodded eagerly. He helped her walk to the other room and placed her in a comfortable armchair. "There´s something I don´t understand, Erik.", Christine started, looking at him. "Yesterday you said I should move as little as possible, and today I´m suddenly allowed to go from room to room with just a bit of support…"

"Well… I might have exaggerated slightly.", he confessed. "In fact your injury isn´t as bad as I told you. The Vicomte could have very well taken you with him. If he had carried you all the way, your ankle would have maybe needed one or two more days to heal, that´s all." "But why did you want me to stay then?", she asked, fighting back the hopeful expression that was about to settle on her face. ´He cried because of Meg.´, she reminded herself. ´Then he ran after her and returned, looking as if he had cried again. Do you really think he had done all that if he wanted you?´

"There´s a project I wanted to discuss with you.", he told her. "Or rather, there _was_ a project. Now I´m afraid it´s no longer of current interest. It died the moment Meg said she preferred this Pierre." Christine didn´t believe her ears. Meg couldn´t seriously like that self-satisfied, groping moron more than Erik. "She didn´t mean it.", she assured him. "I guess she was just upset."

Erik didn´t seem to be convinced. "This may be true. Still her words hurt me so much. She asked me to come with her and confess my love for her on stage. I´d have even done it, but I didn´t have my mask… I couldn´t just go without it, could I?" He looked down at her, desperate for some support. To his relief the girl nodded. "Meg was probably angry. Otherwise she wouldn´t have insisted on it.", she tried to defend her friend.

Seeing that his eyes were a little moist she changed the topic rather abruptly "What was it you wanted to talk to me about?", she asked. "I´ll show you.", Erik replied readily, sitting down at the organ. At least this would keep his mind busy for a while. Quickly he performed a warm up for his voice. Then he started:

"_I see you standing over there._

_You are so far away._

_The beauty of your shining hair, _

_Such grace, such elegance, I swear_

_Was never seen until this day._

_My heart is made of tin_

_And yet it seems to burn._

_Although it doesn´t beat_

_I know that it would turn_

_To look at you_

_The way I do."._

Christine listened, enchanted by his voice and the soft melody. When he stopped singing she stayed silent for a moment before whispering: "What a lovely song! Did you compose it?". He nodded proudly. "It´s part of the next opera you will perform." The girl looked a little confused. "You must be mistaken.", she told him. "I know the next opera back to front, and such lines aren´t in there. Will they be added to the already existing script?"

"But no! I´d never meddle with the work of another composer.", Erik explained, turning around to look at his student. "I have yet to talk to the managers, but I don´t think they´ll be opposed to letting me stage this instead of the opera they had planned. I can be very persuasive, you know." His self-assured smile suddenly faded and he heaved a deep sigh. "At least that´s what I wanted to do. But what´s the point of it now that Meg has left me?"

"You once told me that music always made you feel better. It was the day the other girls teased me because I didn´t know the new steps yet.", Christine reminded him. "This is such a fantastic song, and I´m certain the rest is just as good. Couldn´t it be a chance for you to spend your time in a useful way till Meg realises that she was wrong?" "And what if she doesn´t?", he cried. He jumped up and began to pace around in front of Christine. "This whole opera is a tribute to her, to our love.", he muttered. "It´s a tribute, you know, and not a requiem. Not a requiem!"

Since her gaze followed Erik the girl soon felt a bit dizzy. "I don´t understand half of what you´re saying.", she complained. "Please sit down and tell me more about the opera and how it´s connected to Meg. Maybe I´ll be able to help." Obediently he took a seat in the armchair next to hers. "Have you ever heard of a fairytale called ´The steadfast tin soldier´?", he asked her. She shook her head.

"It´s about a box of tin soldiers which is given a boy for his birthday.", he said. His voice grew soft, like a story-teller´s, and before long Christine found herself closing her eyes, watching the pictures Erik created in her mind. "One of the soldiers had only one leg since there wasn´t enough tin left to complete him. This soldier falls in love with a ballerina made of paper, who lives in a paper castle on the same table. Yet before he can say a word to her a malicious devil-in-the-box makes him fall out of the window, and he lands in the gutter. Two boys find him and send him into the sewers on a paper boat. Of course the boat sinks, but the tin soldier is swallowed by a fish. The fish is caught and cut open, and by a lucky fortune the soldier ends up in the very same household as before. But the boy doesn´t want him anymore and throws him into the fire. While he tries to maintain his composure even in the face of death, a gust of wind seizes the paper ballerina and carries her into the flames as well… The next morning the maid finds the tin which the soldier had been made of under the ashes. It has melted into the shape of a heart, together with one of the ballerina´s shoes. So the lovers are united for eternity."

Christine blinked a few times, trying to get her mind out of her fairytale world and also a few tears out of her eyes. "Beautiful…", she breathed. "Well, the story was written by Hans Christian Andersen; I merely turned it into an opera.", Erik informed her with a humble smile. "So I guess the ballerina symbolises Meg and you´re the soldier with the missing leg.", she said. "Yes, I wanted to perform the role of the soldier myself. I thought it would make her realise how much love her."

"That´s a wonderful idea.", she replied truthfully. If only she had been the one Erik wanted to be with! Could there be a more romantic thing than writing an opera for the girl one loved? "It used to be a wonderful idea.", he corrected her. "But now… Meg doesn´t even want to be touched by me."

"Why did you want to talk to me if you already know that? What can I do to…?" Comprehension slowly dawned on Christine. "No… no… you can´t seriously expect _me_ to play the role." "Please, Christine! I´m sure Meg will understand that I mean her, and maybe she´ll even forgive me. It´s probably the only chance I have. Or do you want me to ask Ariane?"

Christine´s fingers ran nervously through her hair. Being on stage with Erik, singing with him, touching him – it sounded both like a dream and a nightmare. But all the same she knew she was unable to refuse. She couldn´t do this to Meg and Erik. So she nodded. "Yes, I´ll help you.", she told him.


	31. Son of man

**31) Son of man**

Meg found it very difficult to concentrate during the afternoon rehearsal. By now she was familiar with all the steps – too familiar to pay much attention to her mother´s comments or the other girl´s whispered remarks. She felt as if she didn´t belong here, to all those cheerful people. Why should she bother to improve her dancing? The only person who still wanted to watch her was Pierre, sitting in the auditorium as usual. She forced herself to smile at him.

If it had been possible, she´d have gone home and cried into her pillows. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, and her face was red from the amount of cold water she had had to use to disguise any traces of what she had been doing in her dressing room for at least half an hour. Yet she couldn´t stay away from the rehearsal again; her mother would have mercilessly dragged her back onto the stage. Of course Mme.Giry wouldn´t have done so if she had known what had happened between her daughter and Erik. But Meg didn´t want to tell her.

Over. It was over, and everything was her own fault. Why on earth had she insisted that he declared his love for her in public, even though he hadn´t worn his mask? The answer was simple: She hadn´t noticed this significant fact. Erik and she were so close that he sometimes took off the mask in her presence. But when he went into the main part of the opera he always wore it. Not once had he forgotten it. And as Meg had finally noticed that it was missing she had been too agitated to care.

Yet all this was no excuse for her behaviour in the whole situation. Even before she had been insolent. She didn´t know why she had overreacted. After all, it had only been an embrace; it was not as if she had caught Christine and him half-naked in a fiery kiss. Maybe it had to do with Raoul and what she had found out about him earlier. Had she believed that Erik could replace her just as easily as the Vicomte had done it with Christine?

Meg was spared searching for an answer by Ariane, who was running onto stage, panting and stammering an apology. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that in the same moment Raoul had entered the auditorium and settled down on the first seat he found, apparently not noticing that it happened to be next to Pierre. Meg was surprised that his hair was dishevelled and his clothes untidier than usual.

"I´m sorry, madame.", Ariane said. "M. le Vicomte and I had lunch together, and on the way back-" "Don´t you think the interruption by your arrival has already cost us enough time?", the ballet teacher asked coldly. "Although I´m certain everybody here is keen on knowing what tragic or even romantic fate you were met with, this fascinating story had to wait till later. Maybe you´ve failed to notice it, but there´s a lesson going on. So unless M. le Vicomte and you feel like continuing your encounter in your dressing room, I suggest you go to your place and start practicing."

The girl blushed scarlet and hurried to her place while the other members of the chorus watched her with pity or malicious glee. They all knew Mme.Giry´s sarcasm and were glad they were not its target this time. After just a few seconds the lesson could go on as if nothing had ever disturbed it.

Meanwhile Pierre addressed Raoul in the auditorium. Being one of the wealthiest patrons he didn´t have to worry about receiving more than an unfriendly glance from the ballet teacher. "Not too picky, are you? First you take that Swedish girl and now the new one. Well, one should always be open for new experiences. I´m pleased to see that you are at least a bit like your brother in this respect."

He clapped a hand onto the younger man´s shoulder, making him wince in pain. "I just have one useful piece of advice for you: Make sure Mlle.Daaé doesn´t find out about it, or she´ll give you a hard time. Where is she, by the way?" "She recovers from an injury she suffered yesterday. Currently she´s staying in a little pension.", Raoul replied. This was the version they had agreed on in case someone should ask about Christine´s sudden disappearance.

"And to you information: Nothing has happened between Ariane Hérder and me.", he went on, unwilling to give the other man any more possibility for silly remarks. Pierre nearly burst into laughter. "You both come here much too late, panting and with untidy clothes, and you expect me to believe that nothing happened? Come on, you can tell your old friend Pierre! I´ve had more girls in coaches than you´ll ever see in your life."

The expression ´old friend´ made Raoul shudder. He wouldn´t even have called him an acquaintance. After all, they had only met about half a dozen times before. "We didn´t do anything.", he said very slowly and clearly. It seemed that Pierre was even more stupid that he had thought. "The coach that should have brought us back to the opera broke down and we had to walk the last mile. Fortunately Ariane was wearing her ballet clothes under the dress, or it would have taken even longer."

Pierre tried to hide his grin behind an expression of pity, but failed. "Bad luck!", he commented. "But you´ll be able to make it up to her the next time you meet. There will be a next time, won´t it?" "We´re going to the theatre tonight.", Raoul admitted. He had planned to invite Christine, but for obvious reason that was impossible. He had already asked his brother for his private box, though, and he really wanted to use it. Yet as much as he was looking forward to the play itself, he wasn´t sure if he could say the same about Ariane. "Have fun then!", Pierre said before he focused his attention on Meg again. Raoul sighed slightly and did the same with Ariane.


	32. Topsy turvy

**32) Topsy turvy**

„We cannot and we will not tolerate that.", M.Firmin declared, folding his arms in front of his chest defiantly. M.André nodded in approval. Both of them were looking sternly at Mme.Giry, as usual the bearer of bad news. "The last time we followed this… this madman´s instructions our best dancer, who happens to be _your_ daughter, was humiliated in public.", M.André reminded her.

"There are no alternatives.", the woman said simply, ignoring his attempt to drag the conversation onto a personal level. "In this note…" She held up a piece of paper with the unmistakable scrawl. "…the Opera Ghost states clearly that he wants his opera to be performed instead of ´Il figlio di Firenze´. The first night will be on the planned date." "But that´s in two weeks´ time.", M.Firmin exclaimed. "Two weeks – this means fourteen days!"

"I´m well aware of how many days two weeks have, monsieur.", Mme.Giry muttered with an ironic smile. "If you know that, you also know that the task he has set is impossible to fulfil for us." M.André left his place next to his business partner and moved closer to the woman. He looked at her pleadingly. "Couldn´t you talk to your… your friend and tell him to wait till next year? Then we´d have enough time to stage his opera."

The ballet teacher threw him a glance which clearly said that she thought he was insane. "How many times do I have to repeat this? We´re not dealing with the request of an interested opera-goer here. This man, who is by no means my friend, is potentially dangerous. You´ve experienced what he´s capable of. Nicole Grandoir´s ´accident´, the raw meat on stage… Who knows what else he could do? Besides, it´s his opera and-"

"It´s _our_ opera!", M.Firmin positively howled. With an agility usually unknown by the portly man he jumped up from his desk and approached Mme.Giry as well. Suddenly the woman found herself surrounded by the managers. "Go and tell this ghost or man or whatever he is that we won´t stage that ridiculous work of his.", M.Firmin hissed. "´The steadfast tin soldier´ - Would a decent opera have such a title?"

"Well, actually…" The three people spun around as they heard a voice from a chair next to the door. They had almost forgotten that they were not alone. M.Reyer, who had listened to the argument with silent amusement, cleared his throat before going on. "Actually this is not only a ´decent´ opera, but a brilliant one. It contains some of the most demanding songs I´ve ever seen in my life as a conductor. Brilliant, simply brilliant…" He sighed dreamily.

First and foremost, M.Reyer was a musician. Ever since he had read the score about an hour ago his fingers were itching. He was keen on finding out whether he could play the difficult passages on his violin, and he knew it would be the same for the ambitious musicians in his orchestra. They wouldn´t care who had composed the new opera, as long as it meant they didn´t have to perform ´Il figlio di Firenze´ yet again.

Unfortunately the managers didn´t share his enthusiasm. "But there is so little time.", M.André muttered, although he already smelt that defeat was in the air. "The dancers learn quickly.", Mme.Giry said firmly, straightening up to her full height. The unexpected support had been very good for her self-confidence. "So do the singers and musicians.", M.Reyer told them, standing up and placing himself next to the ballet teacher.

"But… but the scenery is already painted. Can we use it?", M.Firmin asked, in the manner of someone desperate to achieve at least a tiny personal success. He frowned, calculating how much it would cost to do everything again. He already anticipated the answer Mme.Giry gave. "I´m afraid that won´t be possible. The opera takes place on a table in a children´s room most of the time. How do you want to get that together with a scenery of Florence?"

Seeing his friend´s hands clench into fists M.André decided to help him, even though he knew he was grasping at straws. "We have the list with the cast here.", he said, picking it up from the desk with a theatrical gesture. "Yet there´s a name missing. The Opera Ghost has only given us the understudy for the role of the Tin Soldier; he simply left blank the other line. How are we supposed to start rehearsing like this?" This time it was M.Reyer who reacted first. "We´ll practice with the understudy till M. le Fantome has made his decision."

M.Firmin´s face had grown very red during the last sentences. "Great!", he yelled. "Now the ballet mistress decides about the scenery and the conductor tells us we have to wait until the resident ghost has made his choice. We are the managers, for Heaven´s sake! What are we here for if you can do everything alone?"

The corners of Mme.Giry´s mouth twitched. "Well, someone has to pay my salary.", she told them in a friendly voice. "And mine.", M.Reyer added. "And mine!", Erik couldn´t help calling from his place in the secret passageway behind the office. He had watched the entire conversation through a hole in one of the pictures on the wall and was already feeling much more cheerful. The managers looked at each other, groaned in unison and nodded.


	33. Without me

**33) Without me**

"I am the… the _understudy_?" Up to now Mme.Giry hadn´t considered the term ´understudy´ to be a swearword, but looking at her shocked daughter she decided to think about it again. "Yes, Meg.", she said calmly. "You´re the understudy for the role of the Princess. That´s how it is written down here on the list." The ballet teacher had intentionally read out Meg´s name last, hoping the other dancers would be gone by then. Yet it hadn´t worked. Everyone seemed to be very interested in who would play the leading role.

Meg´s face grew pale as she heard that she had been given this ridiculous part by none other than Erik himself. Of course she hadn´t always got the role she wanted to. Sometimes a patron preferred a certain girl for a part, and the managers, afraid of losing his money, complied readily. But Erik… she was the girl he loved. Or was she merely the girl he _had loved_? Was this some strange sort of revenge?

"And who will really play the Princess then?", a rather small chorus girl called Marielle asked excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. All the people who were surrounding the ballet teacher like a flock of sheep already had their role. There was just one person missing, so nobody was surprised by the answer Mme.Giry gave. "Christine Daaé will play the Princess.", she replied. "She´ll practice at home and join us as soon as possible."

"No…", Meg breathed. "No, no, no…" It couldn´t be true. Surely she´d wake up from this nightmare in a moment, finding herself snuggled up to Erik instead of standing here being gawked at by at least thirty curious people. None of them could understand why there were tears welling up in her eyes. Some tried to comfort her, patting her back and shoulders awkwardly. "It´s just a stupid role, Meg.", they said soothingly. "The next time you´ll play the best part again." "There´s really no need to cry." "Who knows what these decisions are based on?" "He has always preferred Christine."

Their comments washed over Meg like waves over a rock in the sea. She heard their voice, but they could as well have spoken Latin. She was too busy with her own thoughts to care what they said. How could Erik do this to her? Even if he regarded their relationship as over, he could have given her the role because she was the best dancer in the entire corps de ballet. She was much better then Christine, and he knew it. In Meg´s opinion this humiliation was worse than what she had done.

"You may go now.", Mme.Giry dismissed her dancers quickly, seeing how they all waited for a reaction from Meg. She couldn´t blame them; usually her daughter just shrugged when she didn´t get a good part and congratulated the girl who had been the lucky one. And now she looked as if she had struck by a bolt of lightning. "The first rehearsal will be tomorrow morning at eight o´clock. Make sure you´re punctual – we don´t have much time." Within a minute the stage was almost empty. It didn´t happen often that the ballet teacher let them go earlier, and such a chance was too good to miss. Ariane was one of the first who vanished into the direction of the dressing rooms.

Only Antoine, a young dancer who had only joined the ballet troupe half a year ago, stayed behind for a moment. "Don´t take it to heart!", he advised the girl, pulling her into a brief hug. "Sometimes we´re simply not meant to be in the centre of attention. And being in the back row also has its advantages. At least the two of us will spend a lot of time together.", he whispered.

Remembering that Antoine was the understudy for the Tin Soldier Meg smiled after him faintly as he left the stage. When Pierre embraced her she just got sick, but with Antoine she had this certain sense of security. Maybe it was because she could be sure he´d never want more than friendship from her. As the girl watched his hand shyly seize the hand of Jaques, one of the violinists, she suddenly felt very lonely.

A single tear made its way down her cheek, but was stopped by a handkerchief. "Take this.", Mme.Giry said, her voice softer than most of her dancers would have believed possible. Meg pressed the white piece of fabric against her cheek. "And now you´ll tell me what´s the matter with you.", her mother demanded. The girl was too weak to protest or to make up a story. She simply began to talk. Things couldn´t become worse than they already were anyway.

When she was finished Mme.Giry looked at her for a long moment. Then she said: "I´ve suspected something like that could have happened, right from the moment you got the script. You started reading with so much interest and fascination, and I was surprised that you didn´t know it. Of course I had been sure Erik had shown it to you. And when I saw the list with the cast… But don´t you think you´re exaggeration a little? One argument doesn´t mean the end of a relationship.".

"_This_ means the end of a relationship.", Meg told her, pointing at her copy of "The steadfast tin soldier". "I´m not allowed to play the Princess because he doesn´t want me to be in his precious opera." "I´m certain that if you just ask him nicely-", Mme.Giry started, yet her daughter shook her head. "No, maman.", she said. "I won´t beg. Not for a role and not for a second chance. I know it´s wrong, but I can´t do it. I… I simply don´t dare it." As Meg´s voice trailed off the ballet teacher did the only thing appropriate: She wrapped her arms around the girl. Meg pressed her face against her mother´s shoulder and let the tears flow freely at last.


	34. Always changing, always flowing

**Author´s note:** Thanks for the reviews! _Elflover47_: Are my plotlines that easy to see through? Sorry to disappoint you, though. She won´t.

**34) Always changing, always flowing**

It hadn´t been a mistake to come to the theatre. The play, written by a young French author, had an interesting plot. The actors and actresses were very committed, and the scenery was simply beautiful. Raoul was so fascinated by everything that that he paid no attention to the pretty girl sitting next to him. He had nearly forgotten that he had taken her with him.

As the begin of the intermission brought him back to reality he finally looked over to Ariane. "Do you like the play so far?", he asked. She frowned slightly. Apparently she tried to find an answer somewhere in the middle between polite and honest. "It is very nice.", the girl replied after a moment. "A little difficult to understand, maybe…"

Now it was Raoul´s turn to frown. He hadn´t had any problems in understanding what was happening. But then, he went to the theatre every other week. "I´ll explain it to you.", he offered with much enthusiasm. He loved talking about plays. Ariane nodded, and the next minutes passed in a whirl of character names and places. Raoul was blind for the bored expression on the girl´s face.

After a while she simply stood up. "Would you excuse me for a moment?", she mumbled. "I´ll be right back." She went out of the box rather quickly. Even a visit to the rest rooms would be more interesting than listening to her companion´s comments. Raoul merely shrugged. Perhaps he had talked a bit too much.

´A _bit_?´, his inner voice repeated. ´Ariane didn´t agree to come here with you because she wanted a lecture on 19th century drama. It is you she wants, not a stupid play.´ Having reminded himself of this important fact Raoul smiled brightly at her when she came back. "I have to apologise.", he said as she took her seat at his side. "I didn´t mean to bore you. If you can think of anything I could do to make you enjoy the evening as well, don´t hesitate to ask."

Ariane was about to reply, but the performance had already continued. "Later!", she mouthed. Raoul focused on the stage again. The second act was even more gripping, and before long he lost himself in the story. In the middle of a particularly touching scene he noticed that a small hand had sneaked up to the back of his head and was running through his silky hair. He smiled slightly. It was a nice feeling. Besides, it added to the atmosphere of the scene, which by now had turned into a seduction.

The stage was only dimly lit, so were the boxes. While the hero still tried to convince the young heroine that his intentions were sincere, soft fingertips wandered down Raoul´s neck, making him shiver. They came to the front and began to trace his features. When he turned his head he saw that Ariane´s face was merely inches away from his. In this moment she leaned even closer and kissed him.

The alluring sound of a violin floated through the air. Raoul and the actor on stage tangled their finger in their partner´s hair at the same time. This seemed to be the sign for Ariane to deepen the kiss. Slowly she ran her tongue over Raoul´s lips. A little surprised by her boldness he gasped for breath. The girl took advantage of this movement by invading his mouth at once.

The darkness, the music – everything was perfect. Yet Raoul was so sad that he could have cried. Everything would have been perfect… if Christine had been with him. He had never missed her as much as in the moment when he was kissing Ariane. ´Come on!´, the little voice in his head encouraged him. ´You know how Christine does it. Just do the same!´

So Raoul closed his eyes and tried to imagine it was his beloved´s mouth on his and her hands on his back. It became increasingly difficult when her lips wandered downwards. He could hardly keep himself from moaning: "Oh Christine!". Raoul was so busy with maintaining the picture he had on his mind that he didn´t realise that one of her hands tailed down as well. He did notice it, however, when it landed in his lap.

His eyes snapped open, the illusion shattering into a thousand pieces. He had never allowed any woman apart from Christine to touch this part of him and he wouldn´t do so in the future. "What are you doing?", he whispered. "You said you wanted me to enjoy this evening.", she replied innocently. "This way we can both enjoy it." She started caressing him through the fabric of his trousers. Up and down her hand went, and Raoul inhaled sharply as he felt the first stirring in his loins.

"Stop it!", he hissed, cursing his treacherous body. Ariane seemed puzzled. "But why?", she asked. "Wasn´t this the reason why you invited me?" He sighed. "You don´t understand – I… I can´t!", he breathed. "Oh…", she said, her eyes wide. "You mean you´ve never done this before?" She had suspected it because he hadn´t even made an attempt to kiss her during the first act, so she recovered quickly. "Don´t worry. Just lean back and let me do the rest. Some people told me I had the most talented lips in Marseille."

She tried to go on, but he pushed her hand away roughly. "I don´t care if you have the most talented lips in France! This is my body, and I decide whose lips I want to have on it!" Whispering these words Raoul jumped up from his seat and left the box, almost running. Ariane didn´t follow him. Men in such a mood could become very unpleasant.

Raoul went out of the theatre in the same quick pace. He was glad that at least his body had returned to its normal state. Briefly he instructed his coachman to take Mlle.Hérder to her home as soon as she´d come out. Raoul himself preferred walking. It was a long way, but after half an hour´s thinking about this terrible evening he knew what he had to do. Arriving at his house he went straight into his study and sat down at the large desk. He pulled out the necessary utensils and started writing.


	35. I can see the truth so clear

**35) I can see the truth so clear in your eyes**

Erik was a wonderful composer and teacher. Yet he wasn´t an easy person to work with, as Christine soon discovered. She had known before that he was a perfectionist, but the indefatigable eagerness was new. They had started practicing the moment he had come home with the good news that the managers were willing to let him stage his opera. There had been a short break, in which the girl had eaten a quick dinner, then they had gone on.

It was past midnight now, and Christine could hardly keep herself from falling asleep right there in the comfortable armchair. Astonishingly the only part of her body not tired was her voice. Sometimes Erik hadn´t let her sing, but showered her with explanations of which feeling he tried to convey with a certain scene or how the steps for the dancers would be. This had been as exhausting for her mind as the actual singing, yet at least she wasn´t hoarse.

"Could we continue tomorrow, please?", she asked, using her hand to stifle a yawn. He looked up from the organ and turned around to her for the first time in an hour, noticing in surprise how sleepy she was. "Of course we can do that.", he told her gently. "But why didn´t you say so earlier?" A slight blush spread across her cheeks. "I didn´t want to disturb you.", she admitted. "You seemed to be so… happy."

Erik gave her a small smile as he walked over to a side table and poured himself a drink. "Cognac, sherry?", he called. "Water.", she decided quickly, the thought of consuming alcohol making her stomach turn. Having prepared the two glasses he brought hers to the armchair, so that Christine didn´t have to stand up to get it. Then he settled down next to her. "I´m always happy when I can work with a singer as talented as you.", he said. He took a first sip of his cognac and sighed contentedly as warmth spread through his body. "Besides, it keeps me from…" He made a vague gesture with his glass, the expression on his face becoming sombre. "Thinking?", the girl suggested quietly. "I know the feeling."

Watching her intently he remarked: "You´ve changed a lot lately. You´ve grown up… yet not in a good way, if I may be that honest. I rarely see you smile these days." He had expected her to deny everything or to justify herself. But Christine nodded. "You´re right, Erik… as always.", she muttered. Remembering the accusations he had hurled at her she asked in a small voice: "Do you hate me for my way of living?".

"I could never hate you, child.", he replied softly, drinking a little more. "What I said earlier was nonsense. I just wanted to hurt you because I couldn´t deal with your sympathy. Still, I don´t understand what you´re doing with the boy. When we were talking about him a few months ago I got the impression that he meant very much to you. And now… I´ve watched you treat stray dogs in the street better than him…"

"There´s nothing you should take back.", she stated. "Everything you said is true. Raoul showers me with expensive presents and he… well, he satisfies my other needs, and I don´t give anything back to him. It wouldn´t be that serious if just the financial and physical aspect were involved; some of the chorus girls have such relationships, and they´re working well. But Raoul truly loves me."

Exhausted from the long speech she took a sip of water and looked at Erik to check whether he had understood her. Yet he still seemed to be confused. Of course he knew the kind of relationship she was referring to; it was quite common at the opera. All men needed was money and power, and women gave their beauty in return. But what exactly was Christine´s problem? If she loved the Vicomte and he loved her, everything should be all right, shouldn´t it? _If…_ "And you don´t love him.", he completed her sentence.

"I like him very much.", she said. "Otherwise I wouldn´t do all those things I do with him." Suddenly she had the urge to tell Erik about their encounters, even though it could make him disgusted. "I only meet Raoul when I´m miserable. Then I go to him and we make love at once, without even talking to each other. Occasionally we do it several times till I´ve had enough. Sometimes I can´t wait for us to reach a room and he has to take me against the wall or on the floor. On one of these days the coachman must have seen us. I know how this has to sound for you, but I… I simply need it." The words streamed out of her mouth with increasing speed, stumbling over each other just like Raoul and her in the hours she told Erik about.

He had to take a large gulp of cognac to swallow these pieces of information. He didn´t recognise his naïve little Christine anymore. "Why do you need something like that?", he breathed. He did know the wild lust which could take possession of one´s body every now and then, but her way was almost destructive. "I feel so empty.", she confessed. "When I´m with Raoul I can take over some of his liveliness and energy. It makes me feel less lonely." "You´re not lonely.", he argued. "You have Mme.Giry and Meg and…" "None of them can stop the burning in me. It´s as if my heart was on fire. Raoul can at least make me forget for a while."

"Forget what, Christine?", Erik wanted to know instantly. His hand clutched the glass more tightly as he wondered what could have happened to her in the past few months. Was someone at the opera treating her badly? Had she been mugged in the street? Or was it something even worse? She couldn´t have been… "Please tell me!", he added urgently. Christine looked up from her glass, suddenly wishing she had chosen alcohol. She had heard it could numb pain as well. "Forget that I love you, Erik.", she whispered.

**Author´s note (at the end for a change):** This was a very emotional chapter for me. I´d love to know whether I´ve managed to convey Christine´s feelings to you. So please let me know!


	36. Or do you still wait for me?

**36) Or do you still wait for me?**

Erik stared at the girl next to him, and a shiver ran down Christine´s spine. Looking at him when he wore this mask wasn´t easy; it didn´t reveal the expression on his face at all. She felt the mad urge to rip it off. Of course she still wouldn´t know what he was thinking then, but at least she´d be able to predict his reaction a little.

Yet since this wasn´t an option she was willing to take she tried to get a response in the only way possible: Asking for it. "Say something, Erik!", she whispered pleadingly. He kept staring at her. She had no idea whether he hadn´t heard her or simply chose not to reply. A few minutes passed, and still the only sounds were Christine´s rapid breathing and the regular ticking of the grandfather clock.

When she had almost given up hope that he´d ever speak he finally did it. "You told me once that you didn´t love me.", he said, his voice hollow and so unlike his usual one that the girl´s gaze involuntarily wandered to his mouth to be certain it really were his words. "I lied.", she admitted. "It was the first time I lied to you, and I wish there had been another possibility. But there wasn´t."

"And why?", he asked in the same strange voice. Christine started trembling. She couldn´t help thinking that it would have been better to be shouted or laughed at. "I wanted you to be happy.", she whispered. "I didn´t want to bother you with these feelings – something you couldn´t have influenced anyway." After a moment´s consideration she went on: "But that´s only part of the reason. I didn´t want you to reject me. As long as you didn´t explicitly do so, some crazy fraction of my mind still hoped you´d decide in favour of me one day.".

Suddenly unable to look at her Erik turned his head away in an abrupt movement. "Sometimes ignorance is merciful.", he muttered. He didn´t know why the situation reminded him of his mother. If she hadn´t shown him his face, would he have grown up as a happier boy? Or would the shock have been even bigger when he´d have looked into the mirror some years later? Shaking his head he pushed the thoughts away. There was something more important now, something he had to use all his strength for.

"I shouldn´t have told you.", Christine said, her voice full of barely suppressed tears. "It was selfish of me. But I couldn´t hold it back any longer. Do you have any idea how hard it was to take you into my arms and comfort you as a friend? To resist the temptation of bringing my lips to yours and offering my body to you as a very special way of consolation?"

Erik felt like covering his ears with his hands and sing loudly to keep himself from hearing what she said. Her words filled him with something he had always hated: helplessness. What could he do without making both of them miserable? And there were not just the two of them. What about Meg and the Vicomte? He felt as if he had landed in one of his own traps and didn´t find a way out. His whole body tensed, a sign of the pressure he was under.

The hand holding the glass shook violently, but as it was empty nothing spilled onto the carpet. The girl shyly stretched out her arm and touched his wrist in a fruitless attempt to make him calm down. This little contact between her and his skin was too much for him to bear. There was a sickening sound, then they both stared incredulously at Erik´s hand. He had broken the delicate glass in his fist.

Drops of blood were oozing out of several fine cuts on his palm. He opened his fist, and most pieces of glass fell onto his trousers and the carpet. Yet one of them remained where it was. It had slit the skin right under the base of his thumb and got stuck there. Erik looked at it in morbid fascination. Only when the shock wore off a few seconds later did he feel the pain and gasped for breath.

"Oh…", Christine made faintly. "I´m so sorry, Erik. You hurt yourself because of me. I need to fetch you a bandage… a salve… something to stop the pain… and also a pair of tweezers!" Muttering this she tried to stand up, but she was held back by Erik, who used his other arm as a barrier. "You won´t do any of the things.", he said sternly. He was aware of her aversion of blood, and judging by her pale face she´d probably pass out if she looked at his wounds for a longer time than she already had. Besides, he had enough experience with injuries to know that these weren´t very serious ones.

But for Christine those intentions were not clear. She interpreted the situation in an entirely different way. "So you don´t even allow me to touch you anymore?", she asked bitterly. ""Don´t worry – my love for you is not contagious. Even if I helped you with your hand, you´d still love Meg… whether she likes it or not. You don´t want me, so I´ll better leave." "You cannot leave.", Erik reminded her with an annoying rationality. "You can´t walk more than a few steps by yourself." By now he had found a handkerchief in the pocket of his jacket and pressed it against his palm. He winced. Concentrating on Christine he had forgotten that one piece of glass had yet to be removed.

"Now I really have to get a pair of tweezers.", he mumbled to himself. "I wonder where they are. In the bathroom, perhaps? Or in the kitchen?" Determined not to look at the girl he held his hand closer to the candelabra to examine the deeper cut thoroughly with a little more light. The piece of glass really seemed to have wandered under the skin; just a small part was still visible.

He interrupted his task when a door snapped shut. Only then he noticed that Christine was gone. Apparently she had used the time to limp into Meg´s room, even though it must have hurt her very much. Erik looked from his hand to the door and back, sighing. What should he do first?


	37. He´s the earth and heaven to you

**Author´s note:** Thanks for all the reviews and welcome back to HPROXMYSOX! I´m glad you found your way here again and hope you´ll catch up soon. If you ( anyone of you, really) have questions, I´d be happy to answer them.

**37) He´s the earth and heaven to you**

Christine didn´t stand up when Erik knocked at the door of Meg´s room. It was neither impoliteness nor anger that made her remain sitting – it was pain. By walking here without help she had clearly overexerted her ankle. She could feel a throbbing and also had the impression that it was swollen.

Yet the pain in her ankle was nothing compared to the pain in her heart. She had not only ruined their friendship, but also probably lost the best singing teacher she´d ever have. If she was lucky, Erik wouldn´t throw her out of the opera entirely. Maybe she could be given a place in the back row of dancers. After all, she still needed to earn a living.

The problem was that she didn´t want to give up the role of the ballerina. She had fallen in love with it head over heels, and although the idea of being on stage with Erik was terrifying, she had also been looking forward to it. For a little while she could have pretended that he really meant her with those words of love.

A second knock at the door, this time more urgent, made her jump a little. "May I come in, Christine?", Erik called. She noticed in relief that his voice no longer sounded hollow, just slightly anxious. Did he assume she´d be in here, doing something to herself? "It´s your house…", she said rather coldly. Erik regarded this as a ´yes´ and entered the room.

"You look terrible!", they both exclaimed the moment they set eyes upon each other. "I´ll get you a damp cloth to wrap around your ankle.", Erik told her, staring in shock at her injured leg. He went to the dressing table and poured water from a large porcelain jug onto a towel. Doing this he muttered: "Why did you have to leave? How is your ankle supposed to heal when you don´t give it enough rest?".

"Would you have preferred me to stay?", Christine wanted to know. "Would you have rather sat there, not speaking a word to me, till morning? It´s – Ah!" She groaned as he carefully removed the bandage and replaced it with the towel. "Thank you.", she whispered. "That´s much better." Seeing him open his mouth she quickly asked him: "You can say whatever you want, but can we do something about your hand first? It´s much more important than my foot. After all, you´re a composer and have to write things down all the time.".

Erik looked down at his hand in surprise. He had clumsily tied the handkerchief around it, so the girl shouldn´t be able to see the injury anymore. But now he noticed that there were dark stains on the formerly snow white cloth. "Oh yes. I also think that´s necessary.", he told her. "If only I knew where the – Where did you find them?", he asked as Christine triumphantly showed him a pair of tweezers. "In the bedside table. I stumbled over them while searching for something else.", she explained.

He took off the handkerchief, revealing that the piece of glass was still there. "Let me do it!", she said. All other cuts had stopped bleeding, so she´d probably be able to care for the wound without feeling sick. She thought that this could be her only chance to get close to him again.

For a minute she worked in silence, but never quite managed to get the little intruder. It always seemed to escape from her. Erik watched her patiently, suppressing groans or good advice. He was certain that even though his right hand wasn´t as skilled as the left one, he´d probably pulled out the piece of glass by now. Yet Christine was so determined to help him that he couldn´t bring himself to snatching his hand away from her.

Instead he asked her something that had been on his mind ever since the end of their conversation. "Will you still play the ballerina?" A moment later he gave a yelp of pain. The girl had been so surprised that she had slipped and pushed the pair of tweezers right into the flesh of his palm. Now the deepest cut was even longer.

"Do you really mean it?", she whispered, oblivious to the blood trickling onto her lap. "Well, I didn´t say it because I wanted you to elongate my life line.", Erik remarked, dabbing at the wound with the handkerchief. "Ah, there it is!" He pointed at the piece of glass, which had been under the skin Christine had just cut open. Finally she could remove it and wrap a fresh cloth around the hand.

With both of their injuries being tended they could focus on talking, she sitting on the bed and he on the chair next to her. "I really want you to play the ballerina.", Erik assured the girl. "You´re the best female singer, and I like your way of interpreting the role. Besides, whoever gets the part has to come down here and practice with me. Do you think any other girl would do that, even if I allowed it? I´ve heard Ariane; she seems convinced that I eat little children for dinner every day."

"It´s not as if I didn´t like the role…", she said, smiling about the praise and the joke. "But do you really want to spend so much time with me? Wouldn´t you be afraid that I might do something… irrational?" "You´ve been in love with me for months, and so far the most irrational thing you´ve done was hurting your leg.", he muttered, smiling as well. "The only difference is that now I know it. So why should I be afraid?"

Christine pretended to consider her options for a while, but she had already decided. "I´ll play the ballerina.", she told him. "But I… I don´t think I should see you all day long. Could you take me to the surface now, so that Raoul can take care for me till I´ll be able to walk properly again?" Erik nodded, trying not to let show that he was a little hurt that she thought the Vicomte to be a better companion than he. "That shouldn´t be a problem.", he said. "Will he allow me to come to his house to teach you?" "Of course.", Christine replied.

Erik grabbed the suitcase, which she hadn´t even unpacked, took the girl into his arms and carried her out of his home. The way was long, and by the time they had left the lake behind them Christine, feeling warm and comfortable, had fallen asleep. She only woke up when Erik placed her on the ground later. "I need my hands to open the mirror.", he explained.

As it opened and he stepped out into the room he cast a glance out of the window, noticing something that never was that clear to him in his world. "The Vicomte won´t mind that you come this late?", he wanted to know. She merely shrugged. "It won´t be the first time." As the little nap she had taken had made her even more tired she needed longer than usual to climb out. "You won´t be able to go to him.", Erik muttered, turning around to her. He held a letter in his hand and looked very serious. "Why not?" Christine had no idea why she suddenly felt so cold.


	38. On this journey that you´re making

**38) On this journey that you´re making…**

_My dear Christine!_

_I´m writing this letter to tell you that I´ll leave Paris for the next weeks to travel to my family home in Brittany. There are many things I have to think about, and maybe visiting the familiar places of my, of_ our_ childhood will help._

_You wonder where this sudden resolution comes from? Tonight I´ve been to the theatre with Ariane, and I´ve realised one thing: I´m not like you. You may be able to sleep with me, pretending I was him, but I can´t do that. When she kissed me, I felt nothing except that it was wrong. Why should I enjoy kissing her when the only one I love is you?_

_I apologise for not being able to serve as the outlet for your sadness in the next time, but perhaps this will give you the chance to find a new one. I will return to Paris at the first night of the new opera. Ariane told me you´ll play the leading role. Congratulations._

_Please use the time you have till that date to make a choice. And do think about my question. If you´ll have talked to him by then and he´s willing to become the man at your side or if you´d rather be with another man, feel free to throw this letter away. But if there´s any emotion for me left inside you that even vaguely resembles love, please tell me._

_I will always love you. Raoul_

Christine looked up from the letter and turned around to Erik, who had been discreetly peering over her shoulder. "How could you know what Raoul wrote before I did?", she asked suspiciously. The envelope had been sealed. But then, Erik´s abilities as a magician were legendary. "I didn´t know the exact content of the letter.", he corrected her, taking the envelope out of her hand. The letter fell to the floor, but neither of them bothered to pick it up. "I´ve just noticed the shaky handwriting… and the stains. Tears, see?" He pointed them out to her. "How big was the chance that it were tears of joy, given the situation the two of you are in at the moment? It couldn´t be something pleasant."

Even though she was amazed by his power of deduction, the girl was too busy with her current problems, which seemed to double by the second, to praise him. "Poor Raoul!", she whispered. "I´ve driven him out of town." "No, you didn´t.", Erik said softly. "He simply needs a certain distance to think everything over. How could he do that as long as he expects you to visit him any moment?"

"But what am I supposed to do?", Christine asked. She looked utterly helpless. Two hours earlier Erik wouldn´t have hesitated to take her into his arms, but now such a behaviour was impossible. So he led her to the sofa and sat down at her side, carefully avoiding any more physical contact than necessary. "You should do the same he does.", he advised her. "And when he comes back you´ll be able to answer his- What is this question he was talking about?"

"He… he proposed to me.", she replied uneasily. "Oh…", he made. Proposing to someone who didn´t love him! What a foolish thing to do! But at the same moment he couldn´t help being just a little envious of the boy´s boldness. He had to love her very much to act this stupidly. Erik threw the girl a curious glance. "And you said nothing? Or did you just not give the answer he wanted to hear?" "I told him I needed time.", she said, sounding almost defiant. "Well, now you´ve got enough time.", he pointed out. "But where do you want to spend it?"

This was indeed something Christine had to consider. For the last months Raoul had been her safe haven. Now that he was no longer there she felt even lonelier than before. "I can´t go to Meg.", she declared. "I don´t think I could look her into the eyes after all that- you know. I suppose I can just stay here."

Erik shook his head. "The official version of your accident includes the fact that you´re living in a pension till your ankle has healed sufficiently.", he explained. "So you can´t appear in your dressing room all of a sudden before your leg´s better." He glanced at it disapprovingly. Despite his efforts the ankle was still swollen. "Of course we could really get you a room in a pension. I´d pay for it." Scratching his head pensively he went on: "I don´t know how we should proceed with your lessons, though. I doubt they allow male visitors at night.".

The looked at each other, the only possible solution obvious in the heads of both. "You will come-", "I´ll have to-", the started in the same moment, then stopped. "You go first!", Christine said with an inviting gesture. "Could you imagine spending one or two more days with me under the same roof?", Erik asked. "I guess I´ll survive it somehow.", she told him, trying to make fun of a situation that could easily turn out to be very unpleasant for them.

"Shall we go back then?", he suggested, holding his arms open for her once more. "Just a second.", she muttered. Quickly she picked up the letter from the floor and put it into her pocket. "Now we can go." He opened the mirror obediently, took his guest and her suitcase into his arms, and a few moments later the dressing room was empty again, looking as if nobody had ever been there.


	39. there´ll be answers that you seek

**39) ... there´ll be answers that you seek**

The first rehearsal in the morning had started with unusual attentive participants. Normally the men and women were sleepy at this time, but today they were practicing relentlessly, and even after two hours no one expressed the wish to stop any soon. Both musicians and dancers were quite content with their parts, although they secretly agreed that this opera was the most demanding piece of art they had ever performed. "This was nice, mesdemoiselles.", Mme.Giry was just calling. Despite the praise only few girls dared relax. The others knew there was a ´but´ about to follow.

"But the next time I want to see you work more precisely. Listen to the rhythm: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4!" Her voice was supported by energetic knocks with her cane. "You start on the 3, neither before nor after. And be careful not to-" A loud cry made her stop dead. Some of the younger girls jumped slightly, and the melody the musicians had been playing broke off abruptly. Holding their breath they all glanced at each other in confusion. Had someone become the victim of another practical joke by the Opera Ghost?

The source of the noise came closer quickly, and just a few moments later single words could be understood in between the yelling. "… a scandal… impossible… never!" Then Carlotta entered the stage. She pretended to be surprised about seeing all those people, but no one truly believed her. The diva loved throwing tantrums every now and then, and it was much more fun with the whole opera listening.

She walked to the middle of the stage, stretched out her arms and declared: "I will not play this role!". When nobody reacted with applause or another form of approval she turned around to throw the chorus girls a scornful glance. "Which role, signora?", one of them finally asked timidly. "I… I cannot say it.", she replied in a dramatic whisper. "It is too disgraceful!"

Ubaldo Piangi came onto stage as well. He panted slightly; it seemed that he had been forced to run to catch up with Carlotta. "Mia cara… mia cara.", he muttered soothingly, patting her arm. "It is a very important part. Your character sets everything into motion. Isn´t that wonderful?" "It´s _not_ a wonderful role.", she wailed. "It is the… the Devil-in-the-box!"

For a moment it was completely silent. Then everybody burst into laughter. The chorus girls giggled shrilly, the orchestra pit had rarely been filled with more cheerful people, and a few stage hands, who had come to witness Carlotta´s outburst, were hardly able to stand straight anymore. Apart from the diva herself only Mme.Giry´s face wore a serious expression. Even Signor Piangi had to stifle a chuckle with his hand.

Mme.Giry didn´t fail to notice that the idea of Carlotta playing the Devil-in-the-box was indeed a funny one, but she´d never let herself go like the others. She couldn´t bear seeing so many idle people on stage. "Silence!", she bellowed. Within a minute the only sound was the occasional deep intake of breath of somebody who tried to calm down.

"If he has given you the role, you´ll have to live with it.", the ballet teacher told Carlotta, who was still shocked by the reaction she had got. "The Opera Ghost knows what he does and he is the composer, whether you like it or not." "You´re on his side? Well, that´s no surprise.", the diva retorted. "Has he promised to let play Meg a bigger part when you say such things about him?" She looked around to see traces of guilt on Meg´s face, only to realise that she wasn´t among the other girls. "Where is our daughter?", she asked. "Is she already receiving… private tutoring?"

Carlotta´s words were like a slap in the face for Mme.Giry. Never had someone accused Meg or herself of trying to get advantages in such a way. Only the knowledge that it was merely wounded vanity that made the diva act like this helped her maintain her composure. "For your information: My daughter is ill and thus unable to attend today´s rehearsals.", she replied coldly. "Yet at least she´s willing to accept the role she was given, and I advise you to follow her example."

"I don´t need your stupid pieces of advice!", Carlotta called shrilly. "If I decide not to play the role-" "… you´ll leave this opera immediately." Erik´s voice easily drowned out the woman´s. "There are just two possibilities: You play or you go." All people started turning their heads in this or that direction, but his talent to throw his voice made it almost impossible to find out where he was. Only Mme.Giry noticed the curtain in Box Five moving slightly.

"And where do you suggest I should go?" The diva´s question was surely meant to sound self-assured, but a little trembling was audible. The crowd didn´t have to wait long for the answer. "I´m certain the local fire brigade would love to employ someone with your abilities. I´ve heard they´re looking for a new siren!" The laughter that was caused by this reply was even louder than before. For once everybody agreed with the Opera Ghost. No one paid attention to the fact that Mme.Giry had already left the stage. She was on her way to Box Five.


	40. Have mercy on her!

**Author´s note:** We´ve reached chapter 40. Wow... I wouldn´t have thought the story´d become that long. It´s great to have so many lovely readers and reviewers. _HPROXMYSOX:_ I´m glad you caught up with the rest of us and liked the last chapter (I´m sorry your mum didn´tlet you go to HP.). Carlotta is always goodfor a bit of comic relief. But honestly I wouldn´t be too pleased about playing the Devil-in-the-box either. Would you?

**40) Have mercy on her!**

Erik was watching the stage with big interest, not unlike a boy throwing a pebble into a puddle to find out what would happen. He liked a little commotion almost as much as Carlotta liked her tantrums. Seeing the woman´s face turn bright red he couldn´t help chuckling. Her fiery temperament and arrogance made her the ideal victim for him. He was aware that it was quite a mean way of entertaining himself, but in times like this he couldn´t afford being picky.

"You really think it´s funny?", a female voice suddenly asked. Before Erik could do anything Mme.Giry had already entered the box. Quickly he drew the curtains to block them from view. If there was one thing that would certainly ruin the ballet teacher´s reputation even more, it was being seen with the Opera Ghost in his private box.

Turning around deliberately slowly he said: "Yes. But you didn´t come here just to get this answer, did you?". She shook her head in an annoyed way. "Of course I didn´t.", she exclaimed. Her voice dropping to a whisper she went on: "I want to know what exactly you did to Meg, monsieur. Yesterday after the lesson she dissolved into tears and told me your relationship was over. Then she crawled into her bed and cried for hours, unable to fall asleep. I couldn´t allow her to go to the rehearsals; she´s utterly exhausted…".

Erik was lost for words. Meg had said that it was over? She had told her mother about it? This was surely not a good sign. Yet he didn´t want to discuss his fears and worries with Mme.Giry. After all, it was obvious on whose side she´d be and he didn´t need more accusations than he already got from his own conscience. "I´m afraid this is none of your business, madame.", he retorted.

The moment he looked at her he knew he wouldn´t get away that easily. The way she held her cane in a strong grip showed that behind the calm façade she was furious. He found himself shrinking away from her till his lower back hit the balustrade and he couldn´t go any further. "My daughter´s happiness is my business. What did you do to her?", she asked in a dangerously sounding whisper.

"Nothing!", he protested, his fingers gripping the balustrade and holding onto it for support. Feeling the injury on his palm he winced slightly. "We just… had an argument. I didn´t hurt her, I swear it." "And why do you prefer Christine all of a sudden? Why did you only make Meg the understudy for the Princess?" The ballet teacher gave a bitter laugh. "You think you didn´t hurt her? She´s devastated! In her opinion you not only don´t love her anymore, but also think her a bad dancer. Wasn´t it enough for you to humiliate her in _one_ aspect?"

This made Erik even more confused. "But you just told Carlotta Meg was content with her part.", he muttered. "I had to say that or she´d have believed I approved of her childish way of dealing with disappointment.", she explained shortly. "Why couldn´t you give Meg the bigger role? We both know she´s a great dancer." Erik sighed. He had expected the conversation to take such a turn. "Of course she´s a great dancer, one of the best who´ve ever been on this opera´s stage. But…"

"But what? Is there any particular reason for you to let Christine play the Princess?" Mme.Giry sounded suspicious. First Erik invited the girl to stay in his house, then they were seen embracing and now she was given the leading role. All these clues led to an alarming conclusion. In a very untypical gesture for her she seized his upper arm, looked him firmly into the eyes and asked: "Monsieur… Erik, is there anything more than friendship between Christine and you?".

He couldn´t fight the impression that he was cornered. Even though he had nothing to hide, he reacted in the only way he knew: with a mixture of arrogance and barely suppressed aggression. "There is nothing between Christine and me.", he hissed, feeling anger well up in the pit of his stomach. "And if there was something, it would be none of your concern. I used to be with your daughter, not with you. Tell Meg that if she wants to talk to me, she shouldn´t send her mother. It´s not a sign of maturity. And now… _Let go of me!_" He almost shouted the last words.

The ballet teacher was so surprised by his abrupt change from justification to accusation that she didn´t comply immediately, but kept staring at Erik. Feeling even more trapped than before he reacted as quickly and foolishly as possible. He freed his arm from her grip and pushed her aside roughly. Unfortunately his wish to get out had made him underestimate his strength and forget that he was dealing with a fragile woman.

Instead of merely going out of the way Mme.Giry tumbled to the floor, her head knocking against the leg of a chair. For a moment Erik could do nothing but stare at the blood trickling down her temple. Her eyes were closed, yet at least she was breathing evenly. How could this have happened? He was aware that he had made his situation ten times worse by hurting the mother of the girl her loved. Maybe she could have helped him if she had understood his point of view.

Now he had to help her. After a few seconds´ consideration he dragged the still unconscious woman onto a seat, so that she could be seen from stage. Then he pulled back the curtains. Fervently hoping this slight movement was enough to make one or two of the remaining persons notice her he opened the trapdoor leading out of the box and vanished.


	41. Time to follow me

**41) Time to follow me**

Even a few minutes after Erik´s remark there was still a lot of laughter. Carlotta was reduced to tears, burying her face at Signor Piangi´s shoulder and uttering a stream of swearwords in Italian. Suddenly Ariane gasped in shock. "Look!", she called, pointing at Box Five. All heads turned into the same direction, and several girls let out a scream.

Mme.Giry could be seen in one of the seats, her head hanging down limply and her eyes closed. "She´s dead!", Marie yelled, her voice breaking. The next moment she fainted, sinking right into the arms of the very surprised Antoine. He stared at her incredulously, then shrugged and dragged her aside. A few steps away from the others he tried his best to wake her up with the help of a bit of water.

It had been quite tumultuous on stage before, but now there was pure chaos. Fortunately the other girls kept themselves from passing out, though some of them were so pale that they had to sit down for a while. Janelle, the youngest member of the chorus, who was barely twelve years old, covered her face with her hands and started crying. "I liked Mme.Giry so much.", she whispered. "What will we do without her?"

"I´m sure she´s not dead.", a cello player tried to comfort her, putting an arm around her shoulders. By now the orchestra pit was empty; all musicians had come onto stage to have a better view at the ballet teacher, who was still not moving. It was Signor Piangi who finally said: "Someone has to go up there and find out what has been going on.".

The idea was greeted with horrified gazes. "I won´t do that!", a girl exclaimed, hastily grabbing the arms of the person next to her. "Nor will I!", another girl added. Signor Piangi exchanged a helpless glance with M.Reyer, the only other relatively calm person. "I´ll fetch the managers.", the older man announced. "It´s their opera, so they´ll have to sort this out." With these words he left the stage.

"And I´ll alert a doctor.", Antoine said, abandoning his task of caring for the no longer unconscious Marie and following M.Reyer. The girl looked a little disappointed by being left alone by her saviour, but didn´t dare make a comment. She merely joined the other people again.

The next minutes passed in tense silence. All eyes were fixed on the box as everyone was anxious not to miss anything important. At last the managers arrived. ""Has there been an accident on stage?", M.Firmin wanted to know. The things M.Reyer had told them could not possibly be true. Yet seeing all the serious faces he slowly understood that it wasn´t just a joke.

At once the two men were surrounded by excited people. Everybody tried to tell his or her personal view first. "It was an attack…" "…in Box Five!" "…right up there…" "…while we were on stage." Annoyed by not being heard one girl took a deep breath and shouted at the top of her voice: "The Opera Ghost killed Mme.Giry!". The others stopped speaking and let the girl through. It was Ariane, who apparently enjoyed the attention.

"Are you aware of what you´re saying, girl?", M.André asked cautiously, only to be interrupted by his partner: "Have you seen what happened?". "Well, not exactly.", Ariane admitted. "But it´s clear, isn´t it? The Opera Ghost gave Meg a too small part, so Mme.Giry went to Box five to talk to him. They argued and he killed her." The girl looked around for applause, not unlike Carlotta a short while ago.

Yet to her surprise no one except herself found the explanation this obvious. "The Phantom has never killed anybody.", M.Reyer stated. "When he´s allowed to have his will he´s a very decent… person." The conductor couldn´t believe that the composer of such a wonderful opera was capable of murder, let alone of murdering one of the few people who always were on his side.

"Maybe he hadn´t killed until now.", Ariane argued, unwilling to give up her theory that soon. "But he scared us half to death with the raw meat. Murder is just the next logical step." The men shook their heads, yet some of the girls seemed to consider it possible. Realising that her opinion was gaining followers Ariane smiled even more brightly.

Again it was Signor Piangi who made a useful suggestion, although he actually simply repeated what he had said before. "Why do you try to make the second step before the first?", he asked. "Later we´ll have plenty of time to discuss who has done what. Now we have to take care of Mme.Giry. Has the doctor arrived yet?" He made an attempt to find Antoine in the crowd, but he hadn´t returned.

Shrugging he decided: "Then we´ll have to go up there alone and the doctor can join us as soon as he is here. Who will come with me?". Ariane´s hand was the first in the air, the ones of the managers and M.Reyer followed. Everyone was surprised about how resolute Signor Piangi could be when he wasn´t hiding behind Carlotta. The woman had been unusually quiet, apparently annoyed by the lack of attention. But looking up to Box Five she seized her chance. "That won´t be necessary.", she declared. "Mme.Giry is gone!" She indicated the empty space where the ballet teacher had been moments before.


	42. Say a prayer, then we´re there

**42) Say a prayer, then we´re there**

"Why don´t you all go into an early lunch break?", M.André suggested quickly before the disappearing of Mme.Giry could cause another panic. Marie, now standing next to a handsome violinist, looked suspiciously close to fainting yet again. "I´m certain that everything will be all right when you come back.", he went on. Slowly the stage grew empty. Musicians and dancers were whispering excitedly. They were allowed to leave earlier for the second time within two days. Strange things were going on.

"Most unfortunately I´m unable to accompany you.", Carlotta said, touching her temple with her fingertips in an exaggerated gesture. "I´m afraid it would not be good for my nerves." "Of course you don´t have to go with us, mia carissima.", Signor Piangi assured her in a gentle voice. "Just wait in your dressing room , and I´ll tell you everything later." Maybe for the first time in her life Carlotta did exactly as she was instructed.

Without another word the tenor led the group to the corridor from which the private boxes could be entered. In front of the door leading to Box Five they stopped. "Shall we knock?", M.Firmin asked in a whisper. Ariane shook her head. "Dead people cannot open doors.", she replied. "There are no dead people in this opera.", M.André hissed. "All we have to do it get the key." "It is said that only the Ghost himself has the key to the box.", M.Reyer informed them.

Paying no attention to the chatting, Signor Piangi simply pushed down the handle. The door opened at once. Seeing this the others stopped their pointless conversation and exchanged nervous glances, all silently saying that they didn´t want to go first. Finally the same person who had opened the door went inside. The men and the girl waiting outside listened anxiously, but not even the groans of an injured woman could be heard.

After a few long moments the singer came out again, his face pale. "There is no one in there. The box is empty.", he told them, shaking his head in astonishment. Despite this fact all five people entered it, only to find out that Signor Piangi had been right. Nothing indicated that somebody had used the box in the last weeks, let alone minutes.

Pensively Ariane leaned over the balustrade… and gave a cry. "Look at this!", she called triumphantly, pointing at a few drops of blood that were almost invisible on the blue plush cover. "I bet this was the place where he took her head and-" "Nonsense!", M.Reyer interrupted her briskly. "If the Opera Ghost really intends to kill someone, he uses his Punjab Lasso and not his bare hands. Besides, the stains are already dried up; they could have been there for days. He probably cut himself accidentally or had a nosebleed." "But I´ve heard he doesn´t have a nose!"

"It seems that our ballet mistress has indeed vanished.", M.André stated, making them stop talking with a gesture. "Well, in this case we´ll have to find a new one.", his partner said matter-of-factly. In his mind he was already writing the job description, quickly coming to the conclusion that he shouldn´t mention the Phantom. But then, all Paris knew about him. He´d have to offer a lot of money as an incentive.

M.André shook his friend´s shoulder roughly, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Are you mad?", he exclaimed. "We don´t need a new ballet teacher – we have to get the old one back." "Why don´t you ask the Ghost for help?", Signor Piangi suggested. "I don´t think he has abducted her himself. Yet he knows all that happens in this building. Perhaps he has seen something."

M.Firmin shrugged off the other man´s hand impatiently and threw the tenor an angry glance. "What a stupid idea!", he said, but his partner appeared more convinced. "We could write him a letter.", he muttered. He had no idea how else to communicate with him. Signor Piangi nodded. "Just put it here in Box Five, then he´ll get it." As this matter was settled they all went out into the corridor again. There they parted in different directions. The managers and M.Reyer walked to their offices, Signor Piangi left for Carlotta´s dressing room and Ariane went to find the other chorus girls. There were so many things she had to tell them.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

Mme.Giry woke up, feeling very cold. The cloak that had been wrapped around her body didn´t manage to keep her warm. Only a single candle lit what she thought to be one of the Phantom´s passageways. She sat up and came to her feet hesitantly. The woman felt dizzy and she had to hold onto the stone wall for support, but it was better than lying on the ground.

A hand touched her arm softly and she turned around abruptly – too abruptly for her injured head. The world started spinning around her and she´d have probably fallen, yet an arm around her waist kept her from ending up on the ground. "I didn´t mean to frighten you.", Erik told her. His mask seemed to glow in the candlelight, making him indeed a frightening creature. "I had to leave you alone to go to my home. Some things were needed for your wound." Mme.Giry reached up and groaned in pain as she brought her finger right into it. "Don´t…", he muttered, helping her sit down on a blanket he had fetched from his house.

"Did you… do this to me?", she asked. "It was an accident. I pushed you aside and your head knocked against a chair.", he explained. "I´m sorry." "It´s all right.", she whispered gently as the memories came back gradually. "At least you didn´t just let me lie there." He sighed. "At first I did let you lie there; you don´t know it because you were unconscious. I was already on my way back home when I realised I couldn´t do this to you. So I returned and carried you in here, so that I could have a look at your injury without being seen. Actually we´re not far away from Box Five."

"So you´ll let me go once you´re finished?" Suddenly Mme.Giry was a little anxious. It was one thing not to believe in tales about mysteriously disappearing people when being on stage, but here in this cold and dark corridor it was different. Erik shook his head. "First I´d like to talk to you. About… about Meg."


	43. Who´s with me?

**43) Who´s with me?**

The floor of the managers´ office was littered with crumpled pieces of paper. At least a dozen times they had begun the letter, yet they couldn´t even agree on the opening. ´Dear Opera Ghost´ had been rejected by both of them. ´Monsieur le Fantome´ had been too polite for M.Firmin´s taste, and M.André had disliked ´To the one causing all this trouble´.

They had finally put aside this problem to solve it later and had started the main part. Soon, however, they realised that they had no idea what to ask of the Opera Ghost. It was difficult to find the right words without sounding like two fools who lost people as easily as handkerchiefs.

"It is pointless to go on with this task.", M.Firmin exclaimed, throwing another piece of paper to the floor. "He´d never give us the answer we want, even if we somehow manage to write the perfect letter. Asking a madman for help – whose brilliant idea was that?" "Signor Piangi´s.", his partner reminded him. "And I still think it´s a good one. We have to do everything possible to rescue Mme.Giry from whatever situation she might be in."

M.Firmin shook his head. "She probably just woke up from a nap she had taken and went home, unaware that we´re searching for her.", he said, sounding not very convinced himself. He had the tendency to see things the way they were less complicated for him, but even this talent had its limits. So he wasn´t surprised when M.André gave back: "It couldn´t have been like that. It all happened much too quickly. If Mme.Giry had indeed woken up and left the box, we´d have met her in the corridor.".

"Does that mean that someone abducted her?", the other man asked. He already saw himself confronted with yet another lunatic who wanted his money. A knock at the door kept M.André from replying. "Come in!", he called. "Surely it´s the doctor.", he explained in a low voice. "I bet he´ll be angry about walking all the way in vain and ask for money, even though there was nothing to do." He gave a little sigh. Dealing with people in a bad mood had never been one of his favourite activities.

Yet it wasn´t the doctor who entered the office. It was Mme.Giry. "Madame…", the men muttered, staring at her as if she was an apparition. She didn´t look like the last time they had seen her, pale and miserable in Box Five. Now she was just like she always was, lively and energetic. "Messieurs.", she said with a brief nod, acting as if she was merely here for an appointment they had.

"What happened to you?", M.André asked. "Nothing extraordinary.", she replied, thinking that this probably was the biggest lie she had ever told. The conversation with Erik had been one of the most important in her life… and in Meg´s as well. But she had no time to ponder how she´d proceed with this subject as the managers were not content with her short answer. "What do you mean – nothing extraordinary?", M.Firmin shouted. His relief about seeing her alive and well had quickly turned into anger. "Why were you in Box Five, looking as pale as a ghost and scaring everyone?", his friend added.

"Oh, I had just gone there to talk to the Phantom when I felt a little faint and had to sit down. I must have fallen asleep for a minute.", the woman explained matter-of-factly. "And where did the blood on the balustrade come from?", M.André wanted to know. "I have no idea.", Mme.Giry said with a small smile. Silently she congratulated herself for having thought of going to her room first and combing her hair over the wound. It couldn´t be seen anymore.

Apparently M.Firmin wasn´t interested in the origin of some drops of blood. "You _talked _to the Opera Ghost? What did he say? Does he have any more demands? Or was he at least kind enough to tell you whom he wants to play the Tin Soldier?" She wasn´t certain which question to answer first, yet she noticed that it wasn´t necessary. Erik´s voice suddenly echoed through the room. "Why don´t you ask me yourself?"

The managers were thunderstruck. They should have been used to the fact that the Phantom was more or less omnipresent, but it was something hard to accept. "So… well, why did you have a conversation with our ballet mistress then?", M.Firmin dared voice his thoughts. "_We_ are the managers; anything important has to be discussed with _us_."

"I choose to speak to whomever I please.", Erik said icily. Deciding he could as well make his point entirely clear while they were on the topic he went on: "I also give roles to the people I want to have. And the Tin Soldier will be played by me… if you don´t mind.". The last words were dripping with sarcasm.

Unfortunately M.Firmin was too agitated to notice it. "We do mind!", he cried. He had heard enough. A strange new opera and a rebellious ballet teacher were circumstances he could handle; a ghost on stage, however, was simply ridiculous. "Give the role to a decent artist or we… we won´t stage your opera at all!" His partner and Mme.Giry glanced at him in shock. He had clearly gone too far.

Erik´s mind was racing. He needed something to threaten them with, something more effective than raw meat on stage. "If ´The Steadfast Tin Soldier´ is not played, you´ll never seen Christine Daaé again!", he declared after a few seconds. "You thought she was in a pension? That was a lie – she´s with me. And if you don´t follow my instructions, she´ll stay with me for the rest of her life."


	44. They just don´t trust

**44) They just don´t trust...**

Erik´s revelation brought an expression of utmost shock to the managers´ faces, and Mme.Giry had to adapt quickly. Inwardly, however, she was smiling. As far as she could tell staying with her beloved for the rest of her life wouldn´t exactly be the worst fate for Christine. But of course saying that was impossible. So the ballet mistress remained silent, waiting for a reaction of the two men.

"Well… do you have any proof for your story?", M.André asked. Since he was unable of locating Erik´s voice he looked around in an irritated way, as if he tried to address ten people at once. The man on the other side of the wall could hardly keep himself from chuckling. "Mme.Giry has seen Christine and me together today.", he said, silently apologising for dragging the woman even deeper into their business. He hadn´t found another solution that quickly. Fetching the girl or something belonging to her would have cost too much time.

Now the managers focused their attention on the ballet teacher. "Yes, I´ve seen them… in Box Five.", she lied hastily. "That´s why I went up there in the first place – I had noticed Christine and wanted to make sure that she was all right." She threw the men an anxious glance, but they seemed to believe every word she told them, even thought there were differences to what she had said before. Encouraged by this impression she went on: "He hasn´t harmed the girl in any way… yet. Still she´s very frightened. Who knows what will happen if you don´t get her out of there soon?".

"I always thought he was rather fond of Mlle.Daaé.", M.Firmin argued. He knew he was grasping for straws, but maybe it would work. He hated the thought of having yet another person at this opera to worry about, so shortly after having got their ballet teacher back. "He´d never dare hurt her." "Who are you to decide what I would do?", Erik asked through gritted teeth, his hands clenching into fists. The insolence of these men was starting to get on his nerves, and for a moment he wished he had one of them down in this world. Then he could demonstrate what he was truly capable of.

Mme.Giry, who hadn´t failed to hear the anger in his voice, quickly said: "You mustn´t underestimate the Opera Ghost. He´s the most dangerous man in France, maybe even in the entire world. At the moment he only has Christine Daaé in his sway – tomorrow it could be your wives!". Erik briefly wondered why this woman hadn´t become an actress. She seemed to have hidden talents in that area. Standing in front of the managers, foreseeing terrible misfortunes, she almost reminded him of Cassandra from the Greek mythology. Even Erik himself hadn´t known he was _that_ dangerous.

The other men apparently were equally impressed by this statement. "I´m sure we´ll find a solution that´s satisfying for all of us.", M.André muttered. By now not only his voice was trembling. "Of course we will.", Erik agreed readily, glad that they were finally convinced. "I´ll give instructions and you follow them. You´ll never question my decisions. I expect to be informed about everything the moment it happens. Even if a chorus girl wants to wear pink ballet shoes instead of rose coloured ones, I´ll be asked first. Communication will go via Mme.Giry. She´s your contact when I´m not available. If you don´t violate any of my rules, we´ll get along very well. Goodbye, madame! Goodbye, messieurs!"

For a minute after he seemed to have gone there was silence while everyone took in the speech they had just heard. Mme.Giry, who had known most of it from her previous conversation with Erik, was the first to begin to speak. "I guess you don´t need me anymore. You´ll excuse me then. I have an ill daughter to care for.", she told them, turning around. M.André caught her by the hand before she could open the door. "Wait!", he said urgently, throwing her a surprised glance. How could she think about leaving in such a serious situation? "There are so many things we have to discuss."

"Are there?" The ballet teacher looked annoyed. "You´ve decided to stage the Ghost´s opera the way he wants it. So everything is clear: We´ll continue rehearsing, and the first night will be on the planned evening. With the rest you´ll have to deal on your own. Just don´t forget to inform the press! I was told he likes publicity." With these words she wound out of the man´s grip and left as well.

The managers were even more shocked than before. "He likes publicity.", M.Firmin repeated in a faint whisper. "How shall we explain all this to the press? Instead of a well-known opera we´ll have a strange one written by a ghost, who also happens to be the leading male singer. This ghost has abducted the leading female singer and -" "No one has to find out the details.", his partner assured him with unusual resolution. "We´ve… we´ve come across the opera of an unknown, but very talented composer and decided to give him a chance. People will probably praise us because we´re helping a new talent. " The men´s faces lit up momentarily. This was the solution. But as they looked at each other a second time they grew serious, both of them having the same thought: How on earth should they keep the chorus girls, who loved gossip even more than handsome dancers, from telling everyone the truth?


	45. Somehow I´ll be strong

**45) Somehow I´ll be strong**

When Mme.Giry had said that she had an ill daughter to look after it hadn´t merely been an excuse to get away. Right after leaving the managers to ponder over the situation she had gone home. The conversation with Erik had given her new impulses, and she wanted to act immediately. It would only be for Meg´s own good, even though she´d probably not understand it.

"Meg?", she called as soon as she had entered the house and stood in the small corridor. There was no reply. Mme.Giry threw brief glances into the kitchen and the living room. They were both empty, free of any signs that the girl had spent as much as a minute in them this morning. So the woman went upstairs, noticing at once that the door to Meg´s room was the only one closed. She opened it without bothering to knock; she guessed correctly that her daughter had pulled the blanket over her head and couldn´t hear her anyway.

The room was plunged into semi-darkness for the curtains at the only window were closed. Coming in Mme.Giry pulled them open immediately, letting the bright sunshine in. Even Meg, who was indeed lying in bed, realised something had changed. Her head appeared from under the blanket. With her hair dishevelled and her eyes puffy she looked as if she had been crying for hours.

"Why are you not working?", she asked. "Aren´t you supposed to teach Christine to dance a role I should have got and to support Erik with an opera he should have written for me?" She had intended her voice to sound bitter, but it only was full of misery. It made her mother´s heart ache, and she had to remind herself of what she had to do.

Ignoring her questions she pointed at a tray on the bedside table. "You didn´t even touch the breakfast I left you.", she remarked. "I wasn´t hungy.", Meg muttered. Why should she eat something? The emptiness inside her, that vast hole where her heart had once been, couldn´t be filled with food.

"You need your strength.", the woman argued. "Ballet dancing is very exhausting; you´ll never do well in the rehearsals for the new opera if you don´t eat enough." Meg turned around to lie on her other side. She didn´t want to hear pointless pieces of advice. "In case you´ve forgotten it: There is no place for me in the new opera.", she mumbled. "Christine will play the Ballerina and Erik will watch his favourite student from Box five, congratulating himself for having got rid of that stupid temperamental dancer."

"That´s enough.", Mme.Giry interrupted her strictly. "Have you done this all morning – lying in bed and wallowing in self-pity? I´ll no longer allow such an immature behaviour. You´ll get up now, go to the opera and re-join the chorus. The next lesson begins at half past two, and I expect you to be there."

Meg sat up, looking at her mother with the stubbornness of a spoilt child. "And what if I won´t do that?", she hissed. Half a lifetime of dealing with a dozen adolescent girls had made Mme.Giry immune to such provocation. "You will do it.", she said simply. "You´ll do it because you´re my daughter. We Girys don´t give up that quickly."

"I won´t go to Erik and apologise for something that was not my fault.", the girl exclaimed. She didn´t think she could stand seeing him, let alone touching him or hearing his incredible voice call her name… "But that´s not what I´m asking you to do. I was only referring to the dancing. You´ll have to leave the chorus if you don´t attend the rehearsals." Meg gave her mother a helpless little smile. Of course she knew all that. But what was she to do? After all, she couldn´t just… "Wouldn´t it be possible to join another corps de ballet?"

The idea made her excited for a moment, but her mother brought her back to earth mercilessly. "No.", she told her flatly. "You will not run away." "Please, maman!", the girl begged, grabbing the older woman´s hand. "You once thought about sending me to Marseille. Aunt Beatrice could take care of me, and after Erik´s opera I´d return." Mme.Giry shook her head, once more showing that she possessed more stubbornness than her daughter. "If you leave now, child, you won´t ever come back. Your fear of seeing Erik would grow with each day till you wouldn´t even dare visit me at the opera. But at the same time you´d always ask yourself what would have happened if you had stayed. This is not a fate that I wish for my only daughter."

Looking into her mother´s honest face Meg began to understand. She didn´t want to have a life dominated by "What if…" questions. And, most importantly, she wanted to dance. It was her greatest passion and she wouldn´t let her own stupidity stand in her way. "So I´ll go back to the opera…", she said. Mme.Giry nodded enthusiastically. The girl threw the blanket aside and swung her legs out of the bed gracefully.

Yet coming into a sitting position next to her mother a sudden thought made her slow down again. "What if I meet Erik?", she asked in a small voice. "You won´t.", the older woman assured her. "I talked to him. He´ll only show himself if you want him to." This piece of information had a strangely comforting effect on Meg. It was good to be the one in control for a change. Smiling tentatively she reached for the tray and picked up a small pear. Why hadn´t she noticed before how hungry she was?


	46. what they can´t explain

**46) ...what they can´t explain**

Coming back wasn´t as difficult as Meg had anticipated. Instead of receiving sideway glances she was greeted cheerfully. "It´s good to see you again." "You already look much better." "The rehearsal was very hard without you standing in front of us. We had to know all the steps ourselves." Listening to the usual chatting, trying to reply as well as she could, she felt as if she had been gone for months, not just a few hours.

They were all standing around her in the corridor leading to the dressing rooms, exchanging the latest gossip. Of course the Opera Ghost was the most important topic. Before Meg´s arrival the girls had been convinced that he had abducted or even killed Mme.Giry. Yet since the ballet teacher had been seen alive and well together with her daughter merely minutes ago, this idea had been dismissed. Mme.Giry had told them that she had only discussed a few things concerning his opera with the Ghost. She had even explained the blood in Box Five with a harmless nosebleed. Then she had excused herself for a quarter of an hour. She had a meeting with the managers.

As the mystery of the ballet teacher´s vanishing was solved the girls needed a new subject to keep them occupied till the start of the rehearsal. Ariane, who had jealously watched Meg and wanted to be in the centre of attention again, seized the chance to spread a fresh rumour. "Well, some of you may already know that Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny invited me to the theatre yesterday.", she began, noticing in delight that the girls moved to stand around her instead of Meg, who kept in the background. They all nodded eagerly; only a few of them rolled their eyes. Ariane had mentioned this fact at least a dozen times before, during and after the rehearsal. Yet all in all this story promised to be more interesting than talking about the Opera Ghost.

"The play was terrible.", she went on. "I´ve never seen such nonsense. But then, the best things didn´t happen on stage that evening…" She let her voice trail off delicately, wanting the others to urge her on. She didn´t have to wait long. "What did the two of you do?" "Did he kiss you?" "Did he take you to his home?" Judging by the girls´ sparkling eyes they thought this the most exciting aspect. They had heard fantastic stories about the size and splendour of the de Chagny estate.

Ariane smiled about their curiosity. "Of course we kissed.", she told them. "How could he have resisted _this_?" She gestured at her body, seeing with some satisfaction that a few girls gave her jealous glances. As nice as it was to have friends among them it couldn´t hurt to remind them every now and then that she was something special. In Marseille she had always gained respect like that.

"Oh, come on! Don´t stop after every other sentence! We want to have the entire story.", Marie demanded impatiently. Several people nodded approvingly. Afraid of losing her audience Ariane quickly thought about how to go on. Yet before she could open her mouth Jacqueline asked: "You certainly didn´t do… _it_, did you?". Despite some shocked glances it was clear that this was the question they all were eager to have answered. One of the older girls was even thoughtful enough to give the little Janelle a soft nudge in the back and send her away, just in case her presence would keep Ariane from telling them all the details.

The girl in the middle of the crowd hesitated for another second to heighten the tension. "No, we didn´t do it.", she finally admitted frankly. She had long ago decided to be honest about it. What if the others had asked for more details? Then they´d easily found out it wasn´t the truth. Besides, her tale was even more interesting in this version. "We were kissing, and it was really great. But when I tried to go a little further… nothing happened."

"What do you mean? Did he tell you to stop?", Jacqueline wanted to know with barely hidden glee. In her opinion the new member of the chorus was having far too much attention and needed to get off her high horse. But Ariane shook her head. "I mean what I´ve said: Nothing happened… down there." Now the topic became too much, even for her; she blushed furiously. However, this didn´t keep her from whispering: "The poor man! Such difficulties at such an early age!".

The other girls´ reactions were quite different from each other. Some gasped and clapped their hands over their mouths, shocked about her honesty, some blushed as well, and some began to giggle hysterically. Yet no matter what they did, it was the sign of one and the same emotion: astonishment. Who would have thought that a young and handsome man like the Vicomte de Chagny, whom they had often admired from the distance, could have such a problem? It was exactly this material the prefect gossip was made of.

When Mme.Giry came back from the managers´ office a few minutes later she could hardly believe her eyes: Instead of more than a dozen girls there was just a single one on stage, doing her warm up all alone. "Janelle!", she called. "Where are the others?" The girl made a vague gesture in the direction of the dressing rooms. "Ariane is telling them some stupid story about her evening with the Vicomte.", she replied sullenly.

Drawing nearer Mme.Giry saw the telltale traces of tears on her face. So the next sentence didn´t come as a surprise. "They sent me away. As if I was interested in it! The whole story is nothing but lies, I bet." "I´m sure it is, my dear.", the woman muttered absent-mindedly, patting the girl´s shoulder in a rare display of affection. "Why don´t you continue and I look what the others are doing? I´ll tell them what I thing of leaving you alone." Janelle nodded, smiling. Apparently the ballet teacher´s comforting had been successful.

It wasn´t difficult to find them. Mme.Giry only had to follow the giggling. "Once I went to dinner with a comte who had similar problems.", Marie was just saying. When she saw her mother Meg informed her about the story in a whisper. The ballet teacher cleared her throat. All girls looked at her at once. "I think we have heard enough nonsense for today.", she told them strictly. "Besides, everyone knows that your comte, Marie, was truly just the stable boy of a comte." The girl gazed at the floor and grinned sheepishly.

"Maybe things are different in Marseille, but here in Paris such dangerous rumours can ruin a chorus girl´s reputation. If you keep spreading this gossip, you´ll be dancing in the street, begging passers-by for coins, in a week´s time. Do you understand?" She threw stern glances at all girls present, and even Meg, who hadn´t believed in Ariane´s story for a second, nodded hastily. "Can we start the rehearsal then? You can take a leaf out of little Janelle´s book. She´s the only one who had enough discipline to begin on her own." Having made this clear Mme.Giry led her chorus to the stage. The girls followed her without a word of protest.


	47. Adventure in the great wide somewhere

**47) Adventure in the great wide somewhere**

This was it: the perfect house. Once more Raoul made his way through the rooms. They were quite small, even if he tried to forget the kind of house he was used to living in. Yet he didn´t care. He had enough of the noble estates. This was where he wanted to live.

"I take it.", he said, smiling brightly at an elderly woman, the owner of the little house. She knit her brow, making her face even more wrinkled than before. "Are you sure?", she asked cautiously. "This isn´t the only one for sale in the village, you know. M.Vegul has a lovely house just a few miles from here. Maybe that one would be more appropriate for a man of your social status."

Raoul sighed. "Can´t we forget my social status for a moment? You want to get rid of your house, so that you can move in with your son, and I want to buy it. Shouldn´t you be happy instead of sending me to someone else?" The woman looked at him disbelievingly, obviously surprised that he knew about her plan. He had heard about it in the pension he was staying at and visited her at once.

"What… what will you do with it?", she asked. In one of the neighbouring villages a nobleman had recently bought a house to save his spoilt daughter from the dangerous influences in Paris. By now the young woman tyrannized everyone, and some people already thought about moving. A similar fate for this village had to be avoided. Admittedly the man standing in front of her didn´t look old enough to have a spoilt daughter yet, but one could never be too careful.

Raoul´s smile became dreamy as he replied: "I want to live here myself, at least a few months a year. The rest of the time business requires my presence in Paris.". "And you´ll be here… all alone?" Positively surprised about his friendliness the woman grew bolder. She threw a discreet glance at his hand, searching for a wedding ring. In her mind she already saw herself earning a fortune by cleaning for the wealthy bachelor.

The young man didn´t fail to notice the slightly greedy expression on her face. Her thoughts were clear to him, but he had to disappoint her. "No, I´ll bring a lady with me.", he told her. He could only hope this would turn out to be true. "Oh!", the woman made, her dream dissolving quickly. "Well, I´ve told you how much you have to pay. Here´s the contract.", "Thank you.", he muttered, pressing the piece of paper against a wall to sign it and handing her the money.

She looked a little shocked; apparently she hadn´t expected him to pay the whole sum right away. "When will you move in?", she wanted to know. He shrugged. "I´m not sure yet. Maybe in a month´s time…" The woman sensed his discomfort about her question. "It doesn´t matter.", she said hastily. "I´ll just give you the keys, then you can come whenever you please." Raoul nodded eagerly and took the keys as soon as she had pulled them out of her pocket. Now the house was truly his.

"Thank you.", he muttered once more. "You have no idea how much this means to me." The woman still pondered about his words as she walked back to her home after a brief ´goodbye´. What could a house like that mean to a vicomte, who was surely used to much better things? She didn´t find an answer. But then, it was none of her business.

Meanwhile, Raoul stood in front of his new propriety and looked at it from the outside, realising how much there had to be done. In addition to the rotting floorboards, which he had noticed earlier, the roof was leaking and the windows didn´t close properly. As much as he liked the unspoilt state of the house, he didn´t want Christine to break through the floor or catch a cold on her first visit.

He gave a soundless sigh, asking himself for the hundredth time if the girl his heart belonged to would really enjoy being here. It wasn´t the same place she had lived at in her childhood; it wasn´t even the same village. Yet it had the same great view at the sea, and the air tasted just as salty. Even the people at the crowded market place were as noisy and cheerful as in his memories. He had spent the last few days searching, and this house came very close to the ideal in his head.

The screeching of a seagull, a strangely mocking sound, reminded him of a very unpleasant fact that he tried to avoid thinking about most of the time: He couldn´t even be sure Christine would ever see this place. The image of her reading his letter while lying in the arms of the Phantom and tossing it into the fire afterwards was part of every nightmare these days.

And even if her teacher didn´t want her… ´You´re a fool.´, Raoul told himself. ´When will you finally understand that it´s not an ´either – or´ decision? If he doesn´t take her, there are dozens of men who will. Christine is young, she´s beautiful and she doesn´t need someone who tries to re-live his childhood with her.´ ´But perhaps he´ll reject her in such a terrible way that she´ll be glad about having you.´ At this point he forced himself to stop. He simply couldn´t wish for such things to happen, even if he´d profit from them. Making Christine happy was still his primary goal.

Hearing footsteps on the path leading to the house he turned around. A young man approached him. "Excuse me? Are you the Vicomte de Chagny?", he called. Raoul nodded. Giving a sigh of relief the man exclaimed: "Thank goodness! I´ve found you at last!". He drew nearer and went on: "For days I´ve been travelling from village to village, looking for you. In the pension they told me I could meet you here. I hope you don´t think my behaviour inappropriate.".

"No, no!", Raoul assured him. Actually he pitied the man a little. He seemed to be tired and exhausted, and his horse, a slender grey one which Raoul spotted tied to the garden fence, gave the same impression. "Why have you been searching for me?", he wanted to know, growing worried. "Has something happened to one of my sisters? Or to Philippe?" "I have never even heard of those people.", the man admitted, shrugging. "I just have a letter from MM.André and Firmin. They wanted it to reach you as soon as possible. The earlier I´m back in Paris, the more money I receive."

The man rummaged in his many pockets and took out a slightly crumpled and dirty envelope. He handed it to Raoul and wanted to leave at once. Yet he was held back by a hand seizing his shoulder. "Wait a moment! First you have to get this…" Raoul quickly signed a piece of paper. "Otherwise they might not believe you. And now you´ll go back to the pension and stay there for the night. Make sure your horse has a decent stable and some oats; it looks as if it hadn´t eaten for days. Also get a good meal for yourself." With these words he stuffed the paper and a few coins into the man´s hand and let go of him. The man turned around and walked away, shaking his head incredulously about the Vicomte´sstrange behaviour.

When he had left Raoul focused his attention on the letter. What was it the managers wanted to tell him this urgently? He opened the envelope and read: _M. le Vicomte! We are sorry to interrupt your holiday, but we have to inform you that our leading soprano and your dear friend Mlle.Christine Daaé has been abducted by the Opera Ghost. He won´t let her free unless we follow each and every of the instructions he gives us for his opera. Of course we comply – what else should we do?_

_In the last days the Phantom has managed to turn the whole opera upside-down. He replaces musicians and changes the parts of dancers. Although he sends Mlle.Daaé to the rehearsals, he refuses to take part in them himself, so that the understudy has to play his role all the time. Not a single hour passes without a new letter, a new demand. Yesterday he ordered real rats to be on stage to make a scene playing in the sewers more realistic!_

_We just wanted to tell you these things before you hear about them in a different way. We do our best to keep the press out of it, but more than once articles with surprising facts were published, and we think someone inside the opera keeps the writers informed. Please understand that in times like this we need to rely on our patrons and their support more than ever. _

_Whatever you´re doing at the moment, we hope it´s more successful than our business. M.André and M.Firmin._

Taking in all the information he had been given Raoul stood still for a moment. Then he made his way around the house. With determined strides he marched further till he reached the beach. Smiling he crumpled the letter into a ball and threw it into the water. Immediately he felt better. In his current situation he was unable to care for the managers´ ridiculous problems. He only cared for one other person: a girl named Christine, who was certainly not staying with the Opera Ghost _against_ her will.


	48. This will be the day

**48) This will be the day**

It is a remarkable phenomenon that time can both fly as quickly as an eagle and crawl along like a snail. Even for two people an hour will never be equally long. The past two weeks were a good example. How was it possible that they had passed with the speed of lightning whereas certain hours before had been unusually long?

Everyone working at the opera had this impression. They had had to do their jobs as quickly as never before. Two weeks were little time, and with any other composer they´d have probably simply asked the managers to postpone the first night. But with the Phantom… He seemed to know exactly how many days, how many hours certain tasks needed, and lazy people were sure to be noticed. Yet it also worked in the opposite direction: A few diligent workers had already received pay rises.

Today was the day. Less than fourteen hours had to pass until the performance. Still the opera was very quiet. A couple of sceneshifters practiced with some large pieces of scenery which had only been finished last night. In a small chamber far away from the stage a single seamstress changed the sleeves of Carlotta´s costume. Yesterday the diva had decided that they were too tight.

Apart from those people, only two others were already awake, in a house below the opera. It were a masked man and a young girl. "Don´t you want to tell me what´s the matter?", Christine asked. She had been woken up hours earlier than usual by Erik playing the organ, and he hadn´t even stopped to say ´Good morning!´. In the days of living under the same roof she had got to know his moods, but it wasn´t like him to ignore her entirely.

She came to a halt at the organ, carrying two cups of tea. One of them she placed next to him on the bench. "Erik?", she addressed him again, guessing correctly that he hadn´t heard her the first time. "If you don´t want to talk, that´s all right with me. But you could at least drink something. You have to keep your strength." Erik ended his playing and looked up at her. "I´ve told you at least a dozen times that I´m a grown-up man, Christine. I don´t need a mother."

She ignored his comment. She was used to such remarks by now. They had been his standard reaction to every meal she had cooked and every room she had cleaned. Yet even if he thought these things superfluous, for her they were important. As soon as her ankle had returned to its normal state she had grown restless during the long hours when he had been gone. So she had started working in the household. Occasionally she had even persuaded him to eat a few bites.

"Drink!", she repeated strictly, and finally Erik complied. He took a long gulp, shuddering about the vast amount of honey she had poured into the cup. When it was empty he handed it to her, saying: "Thank you. Why don´t you go now and take a bath or wash your hair or do whatever you usually do on such a day? I need some time for myself.". If he had really assumed he´d get rid of her that easily, he had been mistaken. Christine merely placed the two cups on the floor, sat down next to him and looked at him intently. "Could it be possible that you suffer from… stage fright?"

Erik jumped slightly. "Of course not!", he exclaimed. He could not have sounded more indignant if she had accused him of having a love affair with Carlotta. "It´s perfectly normal.", the girl assured him. "I´m quite nervous myself, and you haven´t even played the role on stage. Maybe you should have taken part in the rehearsals every now and then."

"That´s not the problem.", he said with an impatient wave of his hand. "Don´t forget that I´ve written the role! Besides, our rehearsals down here were very good." Christine waited a few moments for further explanations, but none came. So she asked: "What is it then? Are you afraid that the audience mightn´t like your opera?". "Since when do I care about the opinion of stupid noblemen and their arrogant wives?", Erik muttered. "It´s… Meg." This one whispered word made a shiver run down the girl´s spine. Only he had the power to put so much longing into a single syllable.

"I miss her." Erik stated the obvious. "But you´ve seen her, haven´t you?", Christine wanted to know. After all, he had told her about having watching the rehearsals. "She was always surrounded by people, people who were allowed to laugh with her and enjoy her presence while I couldn´t even talk to her because I had promised her mother I wouldn´t make the first move.", he said grumpily. "And she never called for me."

"At least you could see her." The moment the words had left Christine´s mouth she wanted to take them back. He threw her a sideways glance, not half as surprised as she´d have assumed. "Do you really miss the boy?", he asked with an amused undertone. "Well… maybe a little.", she admitted. "But I´m also anxious about meeting him again tonight. I still have no idea what to reply." "Use the time you have this morning to think about it.", he advised her. The girl gave him a knowing smile and shook her head. " Nice try, Erik! We´ll eat breakfast now, you and I. Stage fright or not, I can´t let you collapse on stage."


	49. This will be the morning

**49) This will be the morning**

When Mme.Giry came to wake up her daughter the girl had already been awake for at least an hour. She sat on the windowsill, looking out into the almost empty street. "Did you have problems with sleeping again?", the woman asked softly, careful not to startle her. She knew that Meg had rarely had more than half a night´s sleep in the last days.

Yet as the girl turned around she didn´t look tired at all. On the contrary: She gave her mother a friendly smile. "No, maman.", she replied. "For the first time in weeks I´ve slept very well." "May I ask why this has been so?" Usually first nights made Meg nervous, and even though she merely was a member of the chorus in this opera, it wasn´t like her to be that calm.

"I´ve made a decision.", her daughter said almost solemnly. "Regarding Erik and you?", Mme.Giry wanted to know, coming a little closer. Now she could make out a certain sparkle in Meg´s eyes as she nodded. Judging by the happy expression on her face it surely was a positive decision, and the woman was glad about it. It had been about time that the two got together again. "Today when I´ll see him I´ll put an end to all this.", the girl declared.

Her mother looked at her in surprise. "I hope you´re not planning to take… drastic actions.", she told her uneasily. But Meg only laughed, the first laugh that could be heard from her in weeks. "Not in _that _sense!", she assured her. "Still it´ll influence my life… and his as well." "So one could say that it´ll influence your life together?", Mme.Giry inquired. The girl gave her a mysterious little smile and shrugged. "Since when are you this curious?", she wanted to know. "I can´t tell you more anyway, no matter how often you ask me. I have no idea how things will develop. I´ve just decided to make the first move."

Mme.Giry sensed that she had no chance of getting more information. She had seen her daughter like this countless times before. It was a trait of character typical for the woman of the Giry family. So she only suggested: "Shall we go down to breakfast now?". "Of course!", Meg agreed readily, as if the last days, when she hadn´t eaten more than necessary, had never existed. She left her place on the windowsill, and together they exited the room.

As they passed the grandfather clock in the corridor Meg stopped momentarily. "It´s barely eight!", she exclaimed. "The performance will begin in more than twelve hours. Why did you want to wake me up this early? We don´t even have a rehearsal today." Mme.Giry smiled a bit sheepishly. "Well, I thought you could do with a little more time that usual this morning. You know, to make yourself pretty – even prettier than normally, that is. This is a special day."

"You talk as if you knew something I didn´t.", the girl muttered. "Let´s just agree on the fact that today both of us have our little secrets.", her mother said, suddenly looking very much like her daughter. "And now we´ll go down to the kitchen. I´ve baked a cake with lots of raisins, just the way you like it." "A cake? You?" Meg had to laugh. "Then it has to be a special day."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Raoul gazed out of the window of the coach, watching the landscape pass. Actually there wasn´t much to see. The dark green of forests turned into the lighter shade of a meadow or the blue of a river every now and then. Sometimes they drove past a village. Yet even there nothing interesting was happening this morning. The most fascinating scene Raoul had witnessed so far had been some geese running away from an angry boy who should probably have had an eye on them.

He knew he wouldn´t miss anything if he took a nap. They still had to travel for several hours till they´d reach Paris. A part of his mind was yearning for sleep. He had had little of it during the last time since he had worked tirelessly on making his new home perfect. Smiling faintly he thought back to the house he had left behind. It only had a vague resemblance to the old cottage he had purchased. Now it looked nice and comfortable, ready for someone to move in.

Returning there with Christine in his arms was his biggest wish. Fortunately he did not have those dreadful nightmares lately, probably because the hard physical work made him sleep like a log for the few hours he spent in bed. But the closer they were to Paris, the more of his old fears came back. Raoul had no idea how he´d deal with a rejection. All his dreams would be destroyed. He was slightly frightened by how much power Christine had over him.

Yet it was pointless to ponder over a possible decision now, so he forbade himself to do so. He wouldn´t be able to visit the girl before the performance anyway; it would only distract her, maybe even make her angry. Besides, there were a few things that had to be done as soon as he´d arrive. Buying a large bouquet of flowers was doubtlessly the most important one. Thinking about whether roses or lilies would fit the occasion he hardly noticed his eyes close and his head sink against the window. Moments later he was fast asleep.


	50. Faith and love

**50) Faith and love**

While Raoul visited the land of dreams, this time not having a single nightmare, no one at the opera could afford to sleep anymore. Some people were busy preparing the stage, others cleaned the auditorium. The private boxes received a special treatment, of course. Only Box Five remained untouched. Not even the bravest dared go in there, afraid of infuriating the Ghost.

Said Ghost spent the morning wandering through his opera. He appeared at the most unlikely places and vanished again, chuckling about the thought of how many new tales his odd behaviour would doubtlessly cause. It was an amusing distraction from his worries concerning a certain blond dancer. He hadn´t seen her today yet, but this wasn´t extraordinary. No member of the chorus had to be here before the afternoon.

He was certain she´d understand that the opera he had composed was about her and him actually. This wasn´t his problem. But what if she wouldn´t be impressed by it? He could still remember the gap that had been between them the last time they had seen each other. It couldn´t be overcome by some nice songs; only true love would close it. And Meg´s feelings were one of the few things not even he could influence.

His thoughts also circled around the second young woman who was a part of his life. Although he´d never had admitted it, her constant presence had helped him a lot. Something very strange had happened: He had got used to having company. And now he didn´t want to be alone anymore. This was what made him even more anxious. Today after the performance Christine would be free to go. She´d surely stay if he asked her to, but that would only mean raising hopes in the girl.

He knew the Vicomte would return today as well, expecting an answer from Christine. Though Erik wasn´t an overly curious person, he´d have liked to find out what this answer might be. It seemed that the girl was wavering. She had avoided talking about the subject, as if she had tried to pretend the boy didn´t exist. Yet Erik had seen her with the Vicomte´s letter a couple of times. When she had noticed him she had stuffed it into her pocket and suddenly became very interested in a book or the newspaper.

Thinking about newspapers made Erik smile. There had been a few articles on the mysterious new composer and his opera, but all in all the public hadn´t been exactly fascinated by the topic. After some days, however, someone had found out who the composer really was: the legendary Opera Ghost. The managers had been furious and threatened to dismiss the one responsible. Yet they had quickly changed their mind when the number of tickets sold had nearly doubled. From that day on they seemed to love publicity as well.

As he checked his pocket watch he realised that the morning was already over. Instantly he felt restless and almost a little frightened, as if he was no longer safe in his own opera. Due to the fact that her mother had to be here early anyway Meg usually was one of the first dancers to arrive. But instead of hiding somewhere to watch her he headed back to the cellars. He didn´t know where it came from, yet suddenly he was obsessed with the idea that, like a groom on his wedding day, he shouldn´t see her before the performance.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

While Erik was on his way down Christine prepared lunch for them. Or rather, she _had_ prepared lunch. For the last five minutes she had been stirring the vegetable soup absent-mindedly, pondering like so many times before about Raoul´s question. Should she marry him? She enjoyed his presence and she could very well imagine living with him. But these things weren´t the most important conditions for a marriage.

It all came down to the question behind Raoul´s proposal: Did she love him? She cared about him, that was true. Yet there were also her feelings for Erik, which were of an entirely other kind. Raoul had never made her heart leap like Erik did, even though she had tried her best to become more indifferent towards him. The days with her teacher had been like a wonderful gift that she had been allowed to play with, but not to keep. With every moment which had passed she had accepted a little more the cruel fact that he simply didn´t love her. Even if Meg would reject him tonight, this wouldn´t change their situation.

It was all about love, that strange and unique emotion no one could quite comprehend. How was she supposed to understand it when thousands of poets, artists and philosophers hadn´t managed to do so? As she heard the door being opened she looked up. Without wasting any time on greeting him she asked: "What is love, Erik? How can you know that you love someone?".

Erik, who hadn´t expected such questions after weeks of nearly completely avoiding this topic, threw her a surprised glance. Men wiser than himself had spent years pondering over this subject, and now Christine wanted him to find answers in a minute. Smiling at her a little helplessly he suddenly noticed an odd smell. "Is there something in the oven?", he wanted to know. "Oh no! The beef!", the girl cried. As she opened the oven door a cloud of smoke emerged. Coughing she seized a towel and pulled out something dark brown only vaguely resembling beef anymore. "See?", Erik couldn´t help commenting. "That´s why one should never mix up cooking and philosophy."


	51. Despair and hope

**51) Despair and hope**

The afternoon hurried past in a blur of feverish activity. Even Christine didn´t have time for pondering anymore. Leaving the cellars, being greeted by the chorus girls and having the usual excited conversations with them, dancing a little to get a feeling for the stage – all that had passed with an alarming speed. Now it was half past seven; the opera would begin in thirty minutes. The girl had withdrawn to her dressing room and admired herself in the mirror.

"Is everything all right with the costume?", Anne, a young woman who had helped her dress, asked with a kind smile. Christine looked at herself once more, turning in this and that direction. She wore a light pink dress with a long skirt that enveloped her legs like a cloud when she was dancing. Ballet shoes in the same colour and pearly white tights completed the costume.

"The dress is wonderful, but do you think my hair is fine the way it is?", she wanted to know. Her curls were tied into a bun on top of her head. Only a few strands fell onto her shoulders, tickling her sensitive skin. Somehow she felt reminded of Raoul. He loved kissing those spots. A slight blush crept to her cheeks, yet it was almost invisible under the stage make up. "It looks very good.", Anne assured her. "May I go now? La Carlotta insists on having two people assist her with the costume. She still behaves as if she was the prima donna…"

Christine nodded, and Anne left the room quickly. Yet for some reason the door didn´t slam shut. Turning around the girl realised the someone else had come in. "Meg…", she muttered. This was the last person she´d have expected to visit her. "What are you doing here?" It only occurred to her that this question wasn´t very polite when it was too late.

"I wanted to wish you luck.", Meg answered, sounding a little hurt. "But if I´m disturbing you, I can as well go." "No, no!", the other girl said hastily. "I´m glad you´ve come. We´ve hardly talked since…" "…you were abducted by the Opera Ghost.", Meg finished the sentence. "I was simply jealous of you. You could spend so much time with Erik, whereas all we did together was arguing. Besides, I´d have loved to play the Princess."

Christine hardly dared take a breath, afraid of interrupting her friend. She had rarely experienced somebody being that open. "You should have had the role.", she told her gently. "You know, Erik has written it for you. He just didn´t want to bother you with it when you had… those problems." She moved a little, so that both of their reflections could be seen in the mirror. "This should be your costume.", Christine said, pointing at her dress. "Light pink isn´t my colour anyway." "But you look great in blue.", Meg pointed out. She wore that colour, like all the other girls who played one of the Ballerina´s friends.

They were silent for a moment. Then Meg said in a much too cheerful voice: "Well, it´s not that important. I´m sure Erik has made the right choice… I´ll better go now.". "No, wait!", Christine called, grabbing her friend´s sleeve. She couldn´t let her leave thinking that Erik preferred his student to the woman he loved. "There´s one more thing I have to tell you." She hesitated for a second or two. Her teacher had forbidden her to talk about it. But then, what else was she to do?

"This whole opera is about Erik and you.", she explained. "He´s the Tin Soldier with the missing leg, who thinks the Ballerina won´t ever love him because of his imperfections. And you´re the Ballerina. He chose that story because it represents your relationship. It´s meant to show you how much he loves you. Could he make it any clearer than by singing about it in front of hundreds of people? They won´t understand it, but you will." She looked at Meg very seriously. "Do you really want to wait as long as the Princess? She´s only re-united with the Tin Soldier in death! Erik and you could be happy together for many years"

Christine stopped her speech, noticing that Meg was staring at her wide-eyed. She had given her friend a lot of things to take in. "Would you like to talk about all this with Erik?", she asked softly. "He´ll be here in a few minutes to help me with the warm up for my voice." Meg jumped. "No! Not yet… it would be too soon!" With these words she went out of the room hastily.

The other girl had just closed the door behind the dancer when the mirror slid open. She almost had to laugh. Today people were lining up to meet her. "Was Meg just with you?", Erik wanted to know, crossing the threshold and stepping into the room. "I thought I heard her voice." Christine nodded. "You only missed her by seconds." Looking at her teacher she admitted: "I might have done something stupid.".

She saw the little part of Erik´s face that was visible growing pale as he muttered: "You didn´t… tell her that you´re in love with me, did you?". This was a terrible idea to him. What would Meg think of him, knowing that Christine and he had spent hours and hours alone in his home? "I´d have never done that.", the girl assured him. "But I… I told her that your opera is about the two of you… and the love you feel for her. I was afraid she mightn´t understand this message right away. Was it… wrong to do so?"

"I don´t know.", he replied honestly. "No… I guess it was all right." He felt obliged to comfort her. After all, she had only meant well. "How did Meg react?", he asked. "She said nothing and fled from the room when I mentioned you´d be here soon.", Christine answered uneasily. "Oh…", he made. "Let´s start with the warm up, shall we?" Not a single word about Meg was spoken during the remainder of time, but the girl could sense that Erik´s mind was miles away from the opera.


	52. Can you feel the love tonight?

**Author´s note: **A merry Christmas to all my readers! I´ve already received an early present: 100 reviews for this story. Thank you so much!

**52) Can you feel the love tonight?**

"We´re nearly there, M. le Vicomte." Raoul followed the middle-aged man who was supposed to take him to his seat with long strides. He was a little late; the performance would start any minute. It had taken him more than half an hour to pick a bouquet of flowers. In the end he had decided against roses or lilies and taken a dozen sunflowers instead. This was what he had sent Christine after their first evening together. Maybe it would remind her of the happy times, when things had been less difficult.

Finally the man came to a halt in front of one of the private boxes. "Here we are.", he said with a polite little bow, opening the door. "It appears that you have the entire box for yourself. Well, that means you have plenty of space for putting down your flowers. If you´d excuse me now… I have some other very important business… Good luck!" "Wait a moment!", Raoul called. "You cannot be serious. This has to be a mistake. I don´t want to sit in Box Five!"

"It is the place that has been given to you by the Opera Ghost himself, monsieur.", the man informed him. "If he approves of it, I´m sure nothing bad will happen to you." Despite his reassuring words he didn´t enter the box with Raoul as it would have been normal, but turned on his heel and walked away as quickly as his feet would carry him.

So Raoul went in alone. He had expected the worst, yet on the first sight Box Five looked just like every other box he had seen so far. Suddenly he didn´t know what he had been afraid of. After all, it wasn´t as if he hadn´t been seated in the legendary torture chamber. Besides, it occurred to him that the Opera Ghost would have more important things to do today than scaring the audience. He was the leading singer, so he´d be on stage all evening. With this comforting knowledge Raoul took off his coat and settled down on a seat right at the front. In this moment the lights in the auditorium were extinguished. The performance began.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

An hour later Raoul sat at the edge of his chair, leaning forwards as far as it was possible without tumbling over the balustrade. His gaze followed each of Christine´s movements. He was enthralled by her elegance and grace. She truly resembled a princess. But instead of enjoying the performance it made him sad. How could be have ever hoped a girl like her would be interested in him, a simple vicomte? She deserved a prince who´d place a whole kingdom at her feet. Throwing a quick glance at the auditorium he could make out at least three other patrons who´d happily apply for this position.

His grip around the bouquet tightened. By now he was glad that he hadn´t bought roses; their thorns would have hurt his palm. But then, for Christine he´d have accepted having bloody hands every day. Wasn´t she herself in her light pink dress like a rare and precious rose? She was beautiful, and yet she had hurt him more than anyone else. Raoul seriously wondered if he had gone insane. Wasn´t it madness to return to a girl who had been trampling on his feelings?

´No, it´s not.´, a small, but clearly audible voice in his head declared. ´You have to find out what she´s feeling for you. She has had enough time to think about it; tonight you´ll get your answer.´ He jumped up from his chair as if he had been struck by a bolt of lightning. He was aware that he had had planned not to bother her until after the performance, but he couldn´t wait for such a long time. He´d talk to her in the intermission. Unable to sit down again and watch patiently he decided to go to the girl´s dressing room. This way he´d make sure that he wouldn´t miss her.

Meanwhile the end of the first act was drawing nearer. As Christine only had to stand motionlessly in a corner of the stage at the moment while the unfortunate Tin Soldier was thrown out of the window she could cast a discreet glance at Box Five. Erik had told her briefly before the performance that Raoul would be seated in there. He had justified his action by saying that there hadn´t been another possibility unless the Vicomte would be content with standing. Yet Christine had soon discovered a second reason: From her current position, which she had to take quite often during the opera, Box Five was the only one in her range of vision. Although the bright light on stage prevented her from seeing much, she had had at least a few opportunities to watch him watching her.

But what was happening now? The girl saw him stand up and leave. She asked herself where he could be going such a short time before the intermission. Had he already had enough of her and had simply gone home? What about their conversation? She should have been relieved about not having to answer his question, but she just felt a terrible loss. Did she mean that little to him? With all this on her mind it was good that she only had to sing a few more lines before the intermission. Surely one of her arias would have ended in a catastrophe with such a lack of concentration.

When the applause had died away Christine let her eyes wander over the audience. Maybe Raoul had taken another seat because he hadn´t liked sitting in Box Five anymore. "He´s not there.", a voice behind her said. She didn´t have to turn around to recognise Erik. "And where is he?", she asked. "He´s standing at the door of your dressing room, waiting for you.", she was instantly informed. "How do you know that?" He gave a slight chuckle. "I´d be a lousy ghost if I didn´t even know that." He walked up to her, growing serious. Taking her hand and squeezing it briefly he said: "Go to him, child! I trust you´ll make the right decision.".


	53. Till we find our place

**53) Till we find our place**

Christine hurried down one corridor, then another one. She knew she didn´t have much time. But as she spotted Raoul standing at the door to her dressing room, just like Erik had told her, she slowed down to take in the sight of him. He looked great in his black suit. Still she could also see the little boy in him who had fetched her red scarf from the sea. What a carefree time that had been!

"Raoul!", the girl called cheerfully. When he turned around, however, she froze. There were dark rings under his eyes, and his cheeks were hollow. She noticed that he was thinner than the last time she had seen him. "What have you done?", she asked suspiciously. Raoul, who had watched the smile vanish from her face, was a bit disappointed. "I was working.", he replied. "I´ve bought an old house, you know. It´s in Brittany, right at the coast. It used to be quite run-down, but now it´s… wonderful."

Christine was fascinated by the enthusiasm of his words and the sparkle in his eyes. Although it was clear that he had worked too much and slept and eaten too little in the last days, she couldn´t help approving of it if it made him that happy. "I´m sorry. I shouldn´t talk about me all the time.", he eventually apologised. "I´ve enjoyed the performance very much so far. You truly have the voice of an angel…" He bit his lip. Why had he come up with this comparison?

The girl used the awkward silence that followed his statement to open the door. They entered the dressing room, and at once their gaze was drawn to the table. Half a dozen bouquets of flowers were arranged on it, one larger and more expensive than the next one. The sunflowers in Raoul´s hand looked like the picture of a child in the Louvre. He actually made an attempt to hide them behind his back. Yet Christine had already seen them.

"Why don´t you give them to me? I love sunflowers.", she said. He merely shook his head and stubbornly refused to hand them to her. "These days you should only get flowers like those.", he muttered grumpily. "How many of them are from you precious Phantom?" "He´s not _my_ Phantom.", she corrected him. "He belongs to Meg. I´ve understood that now." "And… who do you belong to?", Raoul asked cautiously.

His question hung in the air like an object made of glass. One wrong word from either of them would inevitably make it fall down and shatter. Avoiding an immediate answer Christine made her way to the table. Quickly she pushed the bouquets aside to create enough space for another one to stand right in the middle. Still looking at them instead of Raoul she explained: "These flowers don´t mean anything to me because the people who sent them don´t mean anything to me. Your sunflowers, however…".

Suddenly she turned around and took his hand. "I missed you a lot when you were gone.", she told him in a whisper. "The more I realised that I couldn´t have Erik, the more I missed you." "So I´m your second option? Thank you very much!", Raoul muttered bitterly. Yet he didn´t pull away his hand. The physical contact was too comforting, too… promising.

"I didn´t mean it like that.", Christine assured him hastily. With her free hand she reached up to cup his sunken cheek. "I often lay awake at night, wishing you were with me. Not only to make love to me, but to hold me in your arms and whisper sweet nothings into my ear… I wanted you to be there, so that I could feel your love enveloping me like a warm blanket."

Raoul swallowed hard. It would have been easy to revel in her words and forget everything else. But he had to know the whole truth. "What about _him_?", he asked urgently. "Erik means a lot to me.", the girl said softly. "Yet it is you I want to wake up next to each morning for the rest of my life. It is you I want to have children with. So the answer is: Yes."

"´Yes´?", he repeated blankly. For a moment he had no idea what she was referring to. Then comprehension dawned on him. "You… you want to… marry me?", he stammered. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. Could he trust his ears? "Yes!", she called. The next second the sunflowers landed on the floor as Raoul flung his arms around his beloved and spun her around till they both felt dizzy.

"You don´t know how happy you make me, Christine.", he whispered, fighting back tears that threatened to glide down his cheeks. She said nothing, but looked into his eyes. For the first time in weeks she was free from the constant tension that had dominated her whole life. It had been the right decision. She stroked his cheek lovingly, and the next second their lips met in a gentle kiss.

The tender moment ended abruptly when someone knocked at the door. "Mlle.Daaé! The performance is about to continue.", a voice said, then hurried footsteps could be heard. Reluctantly they let go of each other. "Let´s go…", Christine muttered, giving a little sigh. So they made their way back; he went up to Box Five and she to the stage. Erik was already waiting for her, smiling expectantly. "I said ´yes´!", she whispered. Ushering her on stage he mumbled: "I knew it.".


	54. When did you last let your heart decide?

**54) When did you last let your heart decide?**

As glad as Erik was about Christine and the boy getting together, he couldn´t help being a little sad as well. Now it was certain that the girl would leave his house soon, maybe even today after the performance. She´d move in with her Vicomte, and they´d be happy. And he? He´d be alone again, free to ponder over his destroyed relationship with Meg. As if he hadn´t done so often enough in the last weeks!

The opera came to its end slowly, but steadily. Having come back from outside the Tin Soldier was searching for his beloved between the mass of other toys. Approaching the chorus girls who played the Ballerina´s friends Erik thought bitterly that he should better enjoy the physical contact he´d have with Meg while squeezing through the rows of dancers. It would probably be the closest he´d ever get to her again.

He looked at the blond girl pleadingly. The other girls didn´t seem to notice anything, but during the last months Meg had learned to tell his mood from his eyes and mouth only. His silent message was clear: ´Please, Meg! Forgive me what I´ve done! I love you.´. It became incredibly hard to remain indifferent while there was a complete chaos of emotions inside her.

Finally their bodies touched, and they both jumped slightly. "Erik…", Meg breathed barely audibly. Yet he had heard her even over the sound of the orchestra. "Meg, I-" He couldn´t go on for in this moment he received a discreet nudge in the back from a terrified-looking Marie, who tried to remind the Opera Ghost that he was supposed to keep moving.

With a soundless sigh he went to the rest of the girls, pretending to search for his Princess. What a pointless task! He had already found his princess; she was standing over there, just as he had described it in his song "Heart of Tin". Yet it still remained to be seen whether she wanted him back. Apparently being together that closely had affected her as much as him. But what if it had been in a negative way? What if she had truly meant to say: ´Erik, leave me in peace.´?

Unfortunately this annoying Marie had been right: He didn´t have time for thinking now; first he had to be burnt in the fireplace. Holding each other by the hands Christine and he sang their last duet. He knew that singing made the girl happy. After all, it had the same effect on him. But he had never seen her eyes sparkle like in these minutes. He wondered whether true happiness looked like that.

When the song was over they let themselves fall to the ground and vanished through a trapdoor while flames plunged the stage into an unreal light and the last scene was performed. Leaving the room they had ended up in to get back in time for the curtain calls Christine and Erik had a moment for talking. "She still loves you." were the girl´s first words. "How can you tell?", he asked, a little puzzled. If Meg had told her so earlier, she´d surely have said something by now.

Christine smiled. "She´s my best friend. I can see it in her eyes.", she explained. But that didn´t seem to be a satisfying answer for Erik. "Even if that´s true, what does it change? This isn´t about love, but about trust. Can Meg trust me or does she have to be afraid that I do violence to her the moment she turns around?" "These are questions I can´t answer for her.", Christine said sensibly. "If she listens to her heart, it´ll lead her straight to you." "And if she listens to her mind, it´ll make her run away as quickly as possible.", he gave back, entering the stage after the girl.

The curtain calls were a noisy and tumultuous affair. Erik only caught a brief glimpse of Meg before people coming onto the stage to congratulate the singers and dancers blocked his vision. Since crowds of people horribly reminded him of the spectators visiting his cage in the gypsy camp he tried to leave. Yet overhearing the first bits of what could develop into a very interesting conversation between the managers and an elderly lady he decided to stay.

"What lovely costumes I´ve seen tonight!", the woman just exclaimed, clapping her hands in a delighted way. "And what an excellent idea is was to have all Tin Soldiers wear masks! It was meant to symbolise their uniformity, wasn´t it?" "Well… yes! Yes, of course!", M.Firmin said, glad about the explanation. After all, he couldn´t tell her that one of the Soldiers had certain difficulties in showing his face in public. Erik chuckled softly.

While Erik continued to eavesdrop the managers making up excuse after excuse Meg had been cornered by Pierre at the other side of the stage. "How nice to see you again after all those days, my darling.", he drawled. "Unfortunately work kept me busy, so that I was unable to come to the opera for a while. And you never answered my letters." "I was busy as well.", Meg replied quickly. "The new production, you know…"

This seemed to have been the right answer for Pierre smiled. "The only important thing is that we´re together now, isn´t it? And I intend to spend much more time with you in the future." The mere thought made Meg cringe. Not having to endure this man had been the best aspect of the last two weeks. If it had been for her, he could have been busy for the rest of his life.

He leaned closer. "We´ve known each other for such a long time.", he whispered, patting her head as if she was a little dog. "I´ll talk to your mother and persuade her to let you stay with me a few nights a week. Then we´ll finally get something we both enjoy. I´ve waited far too long…" When his hand wandered down her cheek and into the unmistakable direction of her cleavage Meg frantically looked around for help. Yet she couldn´t spot anyone, not her mother, not Christine… nobody.

Summoning up all the strength she could muster she hissed: "Take your fingers off me at once!". Pierre was so astonished that he complied. Encouraged by his behaviour Meg went on: "You make me sick, Pierre Devoiraux! You think you can buy everything with your family´s money? That´s wrong. You can´t buy my love. I´ve never even _liked_ you.".

For a moment he was speechless. Then his face spilt into an ugly grin. "There´s someone else, isn´t there?", he asked. "I was hardly allowed to touch you while another man was taking you every night. Who is it? One of the stage hands? Or maybe a musician?" "No!", the girl called. She had rarely been that angry. Would Erik ever talk to her as if she was a common harlot? Of course the answer was ´no´. He only had done one thing wrong, and it was about time that she forgave him.

"You want to know the identity of the man I love?", she cried shrilly. "_He_ is it!" Her arm shook violently as she pointed directly at Erik. Suddenly everyone else as very quiet.


	55. Heaven´s light

**Author´s note: **Well, here we are. This is the last chapter. However, there will be a chapter-length epilogue. You´ll find it in a few days´ time. I wish you a happy new year! And don´t forget to review!

**55) Heaven´s light**

Meg blushed deeply. Did all those people have to stare at her? Some were even craning their necks to get a better view on the chorus girl who had shouted that loudly. Yet what exactly she had shouted was still a mystery to many of them. The general noise level on stage had been too high to understand more than parts of words. The only thing crystal-clear was the hand that was still pointing at… whom?

Throwing each other a brief glance and nodding both managers took a step backwards, as if to indicate that the girl couldn´t possibly mean one of them. Now the only person remaining was Erik, who was too shocked to react in a sensible way. He hardly knew what was going on. Why was Meg standing next to that unpleasant Pierre Devoiraux and pointed at him?

Erik and the other people didn´t have to wait long for an explanation; Pierre loved making an exhibition of himself in public. "So you´re in love with one of your fellow dancers.", he stated. "But which one is that?" Being a regular visitor of the opera he knew the names of all dancers, whether male or female, and could usually recognise them easily. This time, however, it was very difficult – with their masks all Tin Soldiers looked more or less the same, and frankly Pierre had no idea who the man was that Meg was showing him.

The girl let her arm sink again, not saying a word. Her first impulse was grabbing Erik by the hand and disappearing. Yet such a behaviour would have caused a scandal, and she didn´t want to ruin her reputation for all times. Besides, she couldn´t let her mother deal with the consequences of such an action alone. She´d somehow have to get through this situation.

But before Meg could decide what to do Pierre had already found the easiest solution. With determined strides he marched over to the Tin Soldier, who still hadn´t moved an inch. The girl stood rooted to the spot, merely clapping a hand over her mouth. She had a terrible suspicion of what was to follow. Pierre´s next words confirmed it. "Let´s see whose face is hidden behind that mask! He has to be very handsome if you want to leave me because of him."

While M.Firmin had to stifle a nervous chuckle with his hand his partner tried to talk Pierre out of this plan. He was sure that such a confrontation would end with the young patron dangling from the chandelier, and what could be worse for an opera´s reputation? "Please, monsieur, there have to be other ways of… satisfying your curiosity.", he said. "Why don´t you just… ask him for his name?"

Pierre shook his head. "I have the right to see the face of the man who tries to take my girl away from me. After all, Meg and I were as good as engaged." "That´s a lie, and you know it.", Erik growled, taking a deep breath. He had silently sworn to remain calm as long as the other man wouldn´t touch him. "Meg would rather marry the first beggar she´d meet in the street than you."

"How dare you insult me like that?", the young man yelled, coming to a halt in front of him. "Who are you?" He reached for Erik´s mask quickly, but it wasn´t quickly enough. Erik caught his wrist in mid-air, seizing it in a firm grip. "I am the Opera Ghost.", he replied, stressing every single word. Pierre gasped in shock about this revelation. Still he tried to appear self-assured. "It seems that we have a little misunderstanding here.", he said, looking over at Meg. "This cannot be the man you´re in love with. I´ve heard about him – he´s not even a real man at all. He´s nothing but a pathetic hideous – Aah!" His sentence ended in a yelp of pain as Erik´s grip grew stronger and stronger.

"Why don´t you continue?", the man in the mask asked pleasantly. It was apparent that he enjoyed being in complete control of the situation. "A few more words like that and you´ll never use that wrist again." Finally Meg woke up from her paralysis and ran to the two men while the other spectators formed a big circle around them, anxious not to miss anything. "No, Erik!", she called. "He´s not worth it." Obediently he let go of him.

Pierre was foolish enough to believe he had the upper hand now. "Thank you, my dear.", he said, trying to pull Meg into his arms. Yet the girl quickly took her place at Erik´s side. "Since when do you know anything about real men? I did mean what I told you.", she hissed. Fed up with keeping their relationship secret she cleared her throat and declared loudly and clearly: "I love this man. I don´t expect any of you to approve of it, but that´s the way it is.".

Looking around she saw many faces that wore astonished or shocked expressions. Christine and Raoul, however, smiled at her, and her mother seemed to be positively proud of her daughter´s courage. Yet Meg had saved the best till last: Erik. He was beaming at her more brightly than she had ever seen him. "I love you, too. Thank you so much.", he whispered, wrapping his arms around her. "But why… how…?" Even though he himself wasn´t sure what he wanted to ask, Meg understood him.

"Why I suddenly know that I still love you? I´ve realised that we can´t change the past. There have been some negative incidents, but when we work hard, I trust they won´t happen again.", she explained. Then she cut off any further questions by giving him a long kiss on the lips. Christine briefly thought about applauding, but decided against it. She didn´t want to disturb them.

The two only stopped when they heard a strange noise. The elderly lady who had talked to the managers earlier was blowing her nose. "Oh, this is so romantic.", she said, giving a little sigh. "The ballerina and the Opera Ghost… will we get to see this after every performance?" M.André shook his head. "I believe this was a unique event.", he told her. "Things like that you only see once in you life."

**The End**


	56. Epilogue: Wonderland

**Author´s note: **This is just a little outlook into what life has in store for our two couples. I hope you enjoy it. I had lots of fun writing this story, which has accompanied me for almost half a year. It´sa pity that it´s over, but I´m already planning my next phic. Maybe we´ll see each other... Yours, Jenny Wren

**Epilogue: Wonderland**

"They´re coming! They´re coming!", Antoine called, bouncing up and down at the window excitedly. "May I go out into the street and meet them, maman?", he asked. He turned around to face his mother, yet his gaze kept wandering to the door. Christine smiled about her curious little boy. "Of course you can.", she replied with a gentle smile. "But be careful!"

He didn´t even hear her warning. As soon as Antoine had got the permission to go he did so. He flung open the door and ran out into the garden. When Christine looked out of the window again he was just climbing over the fence. She didn´t want to admit it to herself, but in fact she was just as excited about their visitors as her son. Yet since it wouldn´t have been very dignified to run after him, she merely went to the door to greet them as soon as they arrived.

Meanwhile a coach was approaching the little house. "How will we know which one is right?", Meg asked a bit helplessly. "At home I thought Christine´s description quite accurate, but now… Those houses all look the same." She heard a chuckle from the coach box. "That´s not entirely correct, my princess.", Erik remarked. "In my opinion the boy jumping up and down in front of that house a little apart from the others on the left-hand side in a very good sign."

Pulling the reigns a bit he indicated the horse where to go and raised his whip. Antoine waved enthusiastically. A minute later the coach came to a halt. "Aunt Meg! Uncle Erik!", the boy called in a delighted voice. Meg got off as quickly as it was still possible in her state. "You´ve become as round as a ball.", Antoine observed as he hugged her. And it was true – he could no longer put his arms around her whole body.

Leaving the coach as well, but keeping the reigns in his hand Erik muttered: "It seems that his father´s charm is finally breaking through.". This remark earned him a playful nudge in the ribs from Meg. "You´re right, Antoine.", she told him. "I´m that round because Erik and I will soon have a little baby. Isn´t that nice? Wouldn´t you like to have a brother or sister as well someday?" Antoine shook his head, making the sandy blond strands fly. "I´d rather have a dog.", he replied. "Papa promised to buy one for my next birthday."

The two adults chuckled. "Tell me, young man, how old will you be then?", Erik asked. The boy held up his right hand, spreading all fingers. "Five!", he declared proudly. "When we return to Paris in autumn I´ll get a private teacher." "In this case you can surely show me the way to the stable.", Erik said. "Our coach is standing in the middle of the street. Besides, the horse is thirsty." "Of course I can do that.", Antoine said. He walked over to the horse and reached up to stroke its nostrils. The animal snorted softly, making the boy giggle. "I like him.", he commented. "What´s his name?" "He´s called César.", Erik answered. As they made their way to the stable he murmured: "Like mother, like son.".

By now Christine had left the house and went to greet Meg. The two women shared a warm embrace. "I´m so glad that you´ve come at last.", the dark-haired woman said. "I hope you´ll like the village. Raoul and I need a few days to get used to the people´s stony faces every time we return, but they´ve become a little friendlier over the last five years." "Well, you have to admit that you´re a bit strange.", Meg told her with a little laugh. "A singer and a businessman who can only live here during the summer months because the opera is closed then…"

Christine nodded. "They´ll never understand that a woman can be married and work at the same time… even though I´ve only started performing on stage again two years after Antoine´s birth. But let´s go inside now.", she suggested. "Cake and tea are standing on the table, and Raoul will be with us any minute as well." "All right.", Meg said, and they went into the house. As they sat down at the table in the living room she took a deep breath. "I would have never believed that such a short walk could be that exhausting.", she remarked, putting a hand on her belly. "The last four weeks were the worst for me, too.", Christine tried to comfort her, pouring tea into two cups. "It was a good decision to give birth to your child here. We have a very talented midwife, and you´ll enjoy the quiet atmosphere. It´s so different from Paris."

"Indeed.", Erik agreed. He was just entering the room with Antoine and Raoul, whom they had met in the stable. The two men were carrying heavy leather suitcases while the boy held open the door for them. "Simply drop those next to the sofa and come here!", Christine advised them. "The tea is nice and hot now, and we can bring them upstairs later." They followed her instructions readily, and just a moment later everyone had taken a seat. "I´m grateful that you offered us to stay with you for a few weeks." Erik addressed Christine and Raoul. "My house isn´t the right place for giving birth. A baby shouldn´t be born underground." "You live underground?", Antoine interjected, his mouth full of cake. "Like a mole?"

His parents froze, but Erik merely smiled. He knew that he´d hear many more questions like that from his own child one day. "Not exactly like a mole.", he told the boy. "I do go out sometimes. I just… like living underground. The next time you come to the opera I´ll show you where Meg and I live, all right?" The boy nodded eagerly. "Why don´t you go to your room now and look at the present I gave you?", Erik went on. Antoine stood up and vanished quickly. "A present?", Raoul repeated with a questioning undertone. "I´ve made picture books with different fairy tales, one for him and one for out future son.", Erik explained. "Daughter!", Meg corrected him. "Whatever…", he muttered.

There was a little pause while everyone took a sip of tea or re-filled their cups. Then Christine wanted to know: "Couldn´t you imagine living above ground all the time, Erik? I mean, you did agree to living here with us till the baby is old enough to travel back to Paris.". He shook his head. "The lair has been my home for many years, and now it is my wife´s home as well. The baby will grow up there and it´ll get used to it, just like Meg did. It is the price one has to pay for living with me." "It´s not that bad.", the blond woman assured them, giving him a kiss on his masked cheek. "I´m up in the main part of the opera most of the day. As long as I can´t dance myself my mother lets me assist her with the ballet lessons."

This piece of information was strangely comforting for Christine. She had been a little worried that her friend might sit alone in the dark while her husband composed his latest opera. To improve the atmosphere, that had become very serious during the last minutes, she asked: "How is our dear friend Pierre? Have you met him lately?". The couple in front of her seemed to find this question very funny. "It seems that Pierre has made a little mistake.", Meg said, trying to suppress a laugh. "He took Marie to dinner a few times, then left her, probably because she refused to do everything he wanted. There must have been an ugly scene in which he called her some very unpleasant names. Unfortunately he was overheard by her older brothers…" "Those huge twins who work as stage hands?", Christine whispered with a giggle. "Exactly! They had a long conversation with him in which they´ve made it clear that he should never come to the opera again. Nobody misses him."

After the tea was finished Meg had to lie down for a while, and Raoul carried the suitcases into the guestroom. Only Christine and Erik stayed at the table. A few moments passed in silence before Erik said: "I wanted to thank you, Christine. Without your encouragement and support Meg and I might have never got together. And you did all that, even though you were in love with me yourself.".

He gazed at her intently, noticing the slight blush on her cheeks. "You´re not… still in love with me, are you?" "I don´t think so.", she assured him, placing a hand on top of his. "I have to thank you, by the way. Maybe I´d have never realised how much love Raoul without you." Again they were silent, simply looking at each other. Both of them were glad about having such a good friend. Things would have been very different if they had never known each other.

**Author´s note: **Isn´t it great? I´ve finally managed to include the story title. In case you were asking yourself where some of the other titles came from, here they are:

If I never knew you, I can see the truth so clear in your eyes: If I never knew you (Pocahontas)

Want something new: A guy like you ( The Hunchback of Notre Dame)

Wait and see, A bit alarming, Something in him that I simply didn´t see: Something there (Beauty and the Beast)

I dare to dream that she might even care for me, Though I might wish with all my might, This fire in my skin, Have mercy on her, Heaven´s light: Heaven´s light/ Hellfire (The Hunchback of Notre Dame)

Look out! Look out, Really too much for me: Pink elephants on parade (Dumbo)

Free to do it all my way: I just can´t wait to be king (The Lion King)

And for once it would be grand, To have someone understand, Adventure in the great wide somewhere: Belle – Reprise ( Beauty and the Beast)

Be prepared, Without me: Be prepared (The Lion King)

This growing need to be beside her, Tell me more… please show me: Strangers like me (Tarzan)

Friend like me: Friend like me (Aladdin)

Once upon a dream: Once upon a dream (Sleeping Beauty)

I will protect you, They just don´t trust, What they can´t explain: You´ll be in my heart (Tarzan)

Treasure every instant: Out there (The Hunchback of Notre Dame)

I will find my way, somehow I´ll be strong: Go the distance (Hercules)

A simple life, Trust your heart, Let fate decide, To guide these lives we see: Two worlds (Tarzan)

You must try to be brave: Someone´s waiting for you (The Rescuers)

A dazzling place I never knew, When did you last let your heart decide: A whole new world (Aladdin)

Wandering free: Part of your world (The little Mermaid)

You keep on denying, Who you are and how you´re feeling, He´s the earth and heaven to you: I won´t say (Hercules)

The power to be strong, Son of man, On this journey that you´re making, There´ll be answers that you seek: Son of man (Tarzan)

Topsy turvy: Topsy turvy (The Hunchback of Notre Dame)

Always changing, always flowing, Or do you still wait for me: Just around the river bend (Pocahontas)

Time to follow me, Say a prayer, then we´re there, Who´s with me: The mob song (Beauty and the Beast)

This will be the day, This will be the morning: Savages part II (Pocahontas)

Faith and love, Despair and hope, Till we find our place: Circle of life (The Lion King)

Can you feel the love tonight: Can you feel the love tonight? (The Lion King)

Wonderland: Alice in Wonderland (Alice in Wonderland)


End file.
